Rope

Don’t you know what you could do for me with one thin rope?
Don’t you know what you could do for me with one more stroke?
Don’t you know what your heaving breath does for this burnt, swelling flesh?
Don’t you know how I feel with your fingers around my neck?

Pass me the rope
The burn is intense
I’m starting to choke
The yearning relents
Like a pig in a poke
I’ve hurt and I’ve hoped
Well, I lie for the life of me
The bile’s at the back of my throat

There’s a bloated germ in my belly that yearns for one small slit
Therein this writhing sperm
This blow off in the grit

Fair and fast, the rope’s all ready

I don’t need no one to tell me nothing
I can take myself in my own good time
I met my maker when I met my mother
Not the seven bribes of Christ
Don’t trespass on my patience, baby
Your eyes are bigger than your belly
Like the letter of the law
Like the ulcerating sore
I’m sucking on the stick that stinks

Pass me the rope

9th January 2011
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