If you call this home, you might be on mag crew.
Sometimes I wake up
And I think, “Where in the fuck am I?”
Then I roll over and see you laying next to me.
And I think, “Who fucking cares?”
love poem, Mag Crew
This entry was posted on January 3, 2010, 2:48 am and is filed under Mag Crew, Memoir, Verse. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0.
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