BoySlut

 

 

black Whiskey in a dixie cup

 

and I`ve had my troubles

I tell you what

laid uncle jesse on the copper line

played 13 roulette

with my talkin` clit

loaded her with guns

and emptying clips, my slugs

have all become saviors `n saints

brass-trash silver-bullet and fuck me-blue

smothered in a lynch man`s residue

only coonhounds have a nose to follow…

and I swallows, nothin` hollow

this side of the Mississippi, Misses-hit-me;

I feel tipsy throttle sexy

when he sexts me

down that hangman`s cry me a riv`a

`specially when he trails my trail

legs ta limbs an` breaks my hymns

like cock`s in a bitch-hens den

I can feel them eggs startin` to soil

an` if I can`ts reach my sweet georgia peach

then I`m sure he`ll preach

with his paddles an` swats,

breakin` me in, churnin` me out

with his bibles an` ridin` crops

right `fore he sends me back to daddy

to water his cummunal roses,

I grabs his pew and spew

‘our father’s` hellelujah an` all men ~

but there`s a tyranny

in his biscuits and eyes, and gravy blues

they`s don`t lie but rather try

to smoke pipe the tails

of old tymers and christian folk

just ‘fore they hung that bitch

by her purty throat, her bodily

a squabblin`, lookin’ for hope

towards the heaven`s sky,

an `all she saw, he say,

was the devil dealin` appalachian moonshine,

an` her mama`s bluesy cries,

an` homemade cherry pie coolin`

on a window sill near her black whiskey

in a dixie cup