Not even sure it's a poem. Just my personal feelings on prayer and my vices. |
to relay my prayer requests. I don't think God wants me to try to get a hold of Him. Even if it's a selfless prayer. Too much sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll. At least more than a Christian should. But I can't turn down a willing woman. They're too beautiful. Their skin too soft. Two sets of lips, both of which I love to caress with my own. I love the rise and fall of their breasts when they're close to climax. The erotic, carnal sounds they make during the throes of their ecstasy. And as much as I try I don't turn down the narcotics either. Weed, coke, DMT, but the biggest drug for me is alcohol. The warmth of whiskey in my mouth, The burn as it pours down my throat, The feeling of warmth as it settles in my stomach. And then there's the release from common sense, The freedom from the confines of society, The ability to do something, anything, without regret. Even as the alcohol warms me and the women spread their legs The Stones provide the soundtrack. Led Zeppelin stirs the soul. The gods of rock 'n' roll with life times of experience with my crutches, My loves Whiskey, weed, and Warren Zevon...and women. Can't forget the fairer sex. I'm sure God doesn't want to hear from me. |