if you wanna be my guest,
it's best,
that you know it's a contest,
of whose gonna blink first,
of whose gonna run mad with thirst,
be my guest,
the rest,
i won't say in texts,
but you should already know what's next,
if you show up at my doorstep.
be my guest,
you're wearing a skin-tight silk sundress,
cross-legged, gown's all cinched up—
wrapping your voluptuous curls like a gift parcel.
she call me, "Web developer, Mr. programmer,"
cause when i work that body with my hands, i program her—
to do what i want and she's at my mercy,
won't go easy, i'm ruthless like a Nazi.
flip you like a page, when i'm done with ya,
feel you like you're Braille and i'm blind reading ya,
i have no bookmark, so i'd make do with my finger holding that spot,
if you wanna be my guest.
YOU ARE READING
musings of a jaded poet
Poetrylike the title implies, 'musings of a jaded poet', comes from a jaded, hurt heart but it'd be folly to think this album is all doom and gloom. before the dark, there was light and it's a journey-a tale that needs to be told. the tragedy of how this...
