hipsters, hipsters play a game
but when they’re naked they’re the same:
pallid skin and bony hips
cocaine dust above their lips
bedecked right now in gold lamé
that hipster will be nude some-day
i shouldn’t wish, then, were i you
a hipster to wake up next to
2 responses so far ↓
Justyn Dillingham // 18 May 2009 at 7:33 pm |
This is so awesome. I wish I could hear it sung by David Bowie, c. 1975.
nina // 28 November 2009 at 6:42 pm |
i love this poem. a lot.