Poems from oreo59

It's These Things. . .
It's the scent of burning fuel, And the sound of pounding pistons. The hurricane that caresses he face, As you roar out of the final...
Disguise of My Sublime
I look at the guy in the mirror. His ecstasy can't be any clearer! See him in the hall, he'll give you a high-five! See his walk hear his...