drinking a cup of alligator blood tastes like the heads & feet we’d see for sale at the local pawn we’d make necklaces out of i’d wear them round my neck i’m a sucker for the love of the flesh all things rancid and delicate but the smell in the summer heat it still gets to me
knee-deep in the poacher’s dream he dragged that thing out back and he hung it upside down & slit its belly open and then he let it bleed out he held my head & made me watch filled my mouth up with its blood and said “grow up weak or grow up tough”
playing in the swamp of alligator blood behind our house in the marshy lawn he’d always hold my head under the water a little too long cuz he wanted me to be all guts no glory “all survivor, no guilt” he said but he calls me his crocodile tears while i’m chained up to the bed
when i was done - wiped my mouth on his sleeve i fucked the soul of the south but it crucified meTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
