Pull the plug.
A flatlining aneurysm.
My brain's pumping jism.
There a family feasting
in my head wound.
The little ones scream,
whenever they feel me move.
I'll shake them out
and pump gas into
a newborn's half eaten lung.
Good God what has the mayor done?
He's built this city on
an indian grave.
Call the Priest, Call the warden,
Call anyone who'll listen.
The screaming echoes around my skull.
This self-imposed blasphemy
is getting old.
Will you shut up in there?!
They're always fighting,
giving me tremors,
and I cough up nightmares.
One day,
these dead pecan trees
with rise from the ashes
of cheap cigars.
They'll shoot their skeletal limbs
through our homes and cars.
The factories will close,
and out comes the degraded mouth pieces.
The smell of rotting flesh,
smeared lipstick and putrid feces.
My head wound unwound,
I'll never sleep with a capitalist again.
He raped me,
and left his seed burning inside me.
I'll birth this bastard,
before he eats his way out.
He's got a neon face,
and a busted keyboard mouth.
It's raining in Harlem ,
this head wound is unwound. |
Submission Name: Head Wound Unwound (It's a Fucking Nightmare)
