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Puerto Rican Tequila (Free verse) by Don-Quixote

silent screams escape wrinkled parched lips curled in a grimace of pain liquid drips from the tequila bottle to numb the mental process i now posses the cure fuel to lure the flame of joy, yet now i cry still, unable to get my fill smoke clouds my vision i don't wish to see again that static TV roaring advertisements from greedy whores that drool for my recycled green paper the methamphetamine vapor curls from the glass pipe into the highway of blood vessels one way road to the CPU rewire and amp the programming the radio sings my techno hell opera attempting to grasp the cosmic vanity of humanity broken tiles, my incomplete puzzle I'm left a rotten corpse my skulls gray flesh sizzles its the cannibals barbecue

DreamerSupreme 6-Aug-03/10:02 AM
your right... i just might seriously consider trying that suggestion.. ill see what i come up with.




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