by Liar
white russian early in the morning. The big Ski would
love this dude.
A wild, headlong linguistic tumble! I love the chances you take with poetry.
this peice leaves you with that sweet taste of salt and the giddness of adrenaline after any good mosh. Love the feel it gives. Damn now I need to find a mosh pit lol.
but seriously Liar - how do you do it? You are the only person I've read who's poetry I adore so consistantly.
(thermometer left at default and does not reflect my vote, just in case you hadn't guessed that already :D )
You have touched the special dude-like place in my heart just at the mention of the almighty White Russian. Even if the rest of the poem were to really suck, which it does NOT, I would love it just for that drink.