Eating me up inside
Devouring me whole
Not a single crumb
Is left over for the crows
Strap me cross the butcher block
What’s next? Tequila
Turning heads of the pained ones
Call out to the tamed ones
Since the wild have already come
Beats in the back of my head
Drums that could wake the dead
A feast for famished babes
A trough for thirsty souls enslaved
By our own desires
Do the math ring the alarms
What’s the total number to disarm
Sugar sweating from your lips
My forehead on the ground
Hips up in the air
Slight breeze running down my back
Feels good not to care
Light as a feather
© GÄ
Poétique 