Hollow Hollered - Subtle
Your blood owns no bones,
With mailmen in your home
Holding a knife to your poems
To hollow all you’re sown
And holler ‘goner, you’re owned.’
Your blood owns no bones,
With mailmen in your home
Holding a knife to your poems
To hollow all you’re sown
And holler ‘goner, you’re owned.’
And supposing you was meant
to be bent born some sort of law man,
With the poise of an intellectual
and hunch of a clerk,
And disposition of a saint
And they’d say,
“he is always with cancel eye and ever correct’
And knowing that
Are you less
In the ever so complicated endeavor of a human death
There are only two species set to death on earth
The creature of choice
There are only two species set to death on earth...
There are only two species set to death on earth...
There are only two species set to de