Monday, April 25, 2011


We walk into the place
Smelling like sex
Talking too loud
Looking like love
All kinds of colored
No one needs to hold hands
We talk with ours
No one knows their sun signs
We are stars
We, animals
Sequined eyes and feathers to match
A flock of angels
Out for the night
Too much living 
Collected under our nails
Got us restless
We have seen enough moons 
To tell you all about the waves
We make our own history
We ain't chasing shit
We just spin these webs and chill
Look pretty
And wait
For something to come along
Fat enough
To sink our teeth into

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