las vegas poet

Nothing

Believe in what you know

Know that you know

Nothing 

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Crow

I was once told 

I write too many jaded love poems

But I can turn that all around

if I can turn him on

But perhaps my dumb luck has run out

I’ve still got some of that stoopid inside of me

(You didn’t have to agree)

My dreams were all razor blade fantasies

Where he was pretty as a peacock

And I was just 

a crow 

Who are you?

The one headlight is too bright

My head is in the dark clouds

I can roll the windows down

I can turn the radio up 

Wrap my nine inch nails around the wheel

Light a smoke

Choke

I can forget all about you 

My mind is in the silver clouds

The wind is in my hair

Who the fuck are you?

To bring me down