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.