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lyrics

If she presses her mouth to your ear,
lips open nebulas, and lets her tongue
slither, INTO your ear, past membrane,
past tiny banging bones, past nautilus
guard, to lick the edges of your brain,
gently
at first, then harder, encircling the whole
damn thing with her amazing muscle, then
squeezing, pythonic, until what matters
collapses lung-like in splattered waste,
you would believe then when she tells you,
mouth pressed against your ear,
"I am the real synonym of the word
for the place where dead men come
to kill anything left alive inside them."

credits

from Crude Language, released May 10, 2019

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all rights reserved

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blood like wine. Memphis, Tennessee

Strong Style Memphis folk. Haunting, gorgeous, raw, unique - just like this city. Esoteric to the point of being unpleasant.

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