West is the Best
February 27th, 2010 by Low
The evening falls onto the West
The silent breeze speaks quietly
Onto to the hollow beat of the breast.
The solid titanium quadrant of your brain
escapes the beginning of the end
And silently says you should refrain.
You are the best. She is the worse.
Forever burn unto to the toast
blackened ripe with solitary hope.
Draining, she has in store
For excessive possession of one’s dope
Collapse unto your shoulder floor.
