How cheap can I get with words?
I still do not know
what ideas are refined and chiseled
I have no clues
the specter of her emotions
of elation, and fuzzy attitude
in the brew of last night
a few swallowed pinks
and a pale golden yellow
drunk in several pegs
a trampled bedsheet
on the door
are smooches marked
and a revisit message of the lewd kind
and walls have palms of stupor impressions
I can still hear moans and high planned groans
you had come and gone
another day of life
as you wished it
but then did you like it at all?
My words, oh! they are cheap
and hollow, at best!
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