Mohawks Rock

.It's the rhythm.
.That it starts.
.In your heart.
.It's a beat.
.Like a pop.
.No a spark.
.Like a shock.
.To your system.
.In a flash.
.Unexpected.
.From the start.
.Not an art.
.But a pleasure.
.Will be struggle.
.In a muddle.
.Light as air.
.In the clouds.
.Such a feelin'.
.I don't get it...

It's really frustrating when people ask "What don't you understand about it?"
Seriously? Fuck off. It makes us sick enough when you act like all superior with that "some day, you will find love" shit.
Pretentious much?
When we try to describe that we think that it might be possible to find someone that could be described as 'compatible' like a good friend, don't give us the "but that is love" cowcrap. No. It's friendship. By your definition we're in love with a whooole lotta people right there. So please She', you wanna know what we don't get? WE DON' GET YOU! You're so "shy" and quiet, when really you domineer conversations and have seriously messed up other people's plans when you set your mind on doing something else. You keep your fake touchy feely donkey piss to yourself. We're sick and tired of plastering on a smile and laughing "I don't know how to say what I don't get, because I just don't understand the concept, haha" ha.ha. hahaha. FUCK OFF.

Views: 13

Comment by Andy Castillo on December 27, 2009 at 11:01pm
The word were unwillingly surrendered;
The irony disposed upon me,
And the reality hindered,
All simply to turn this life into poetry...

The ending twisted;
Facts turned to fiction,
Writing this story,
Became an addiction,

But as I danced to the melody
Of tears lost in rain,
It washed the novel away;
The words bleed in vain,

The testimony of this shadowed heart,
Was once written on a subway wall...
Such a simple; stolen art,
That was over looked by all...

The perfect painting outlined,
The puzzle left unfinished,
The mystic picture undefined,
And a soul left diminished...

Because the words ran,
And the heart turned cold,
The novel was never written;
The story never told.

Did they truly wash away,
Or were they never there?
Never made to be read,
Never meant for you to care.

The testimony of this shadowed heart,
Was written on a subway wall...
Such a simple stolen art..
Overlooked by all .....

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