The Swamp's Blood
It’s hollow in the swamps of you
With execution trees of a foul familiarity
And deep emerald collections of soiled slime
Allow coldness within the murky metaphor
It’s hollow in the swamps of you
And the ancient gnarled stalking sulkers
Wait patiently for their jaws to judge
Then insensitivity swirls to deafening darkness
It’s hollow in the swamps of you
While finding your psychotic violent verdict
That voracious aged instinctive ivory
Sinks into my defensive security skin
It’s hollow in the swamps of you
So slither sultry silence of certain satin scandals
And let my boiling blend of beaten biased baggage bleed.
Copyright © Gabrielle Wolcott | Year Posted 2011
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