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Feed Bag

oh give me something that I can take
I've succumb to the violence
rejoice contorted in my mistakes
my own bay of pig in silence
I've anointed the rage again
strapped on the feed bag of failure
no blessing be to all my friends
no sedatives can curb this anger

you looking at you
looking at me
looking at you

sip six cups of winter's sun
stitch my mouth with power lines
crushed beneath harm and scum
bath in the blood of all my crimes
pound Christ's nails in both my sides
nurture black blisters around my heart
it's my pain and I will cherish it
I've learned lo revel in my disregard

you looking at you
looking at me
looking at you

I'll hail the madness so divine
Cut my limbs and take a dive
into your mass of joy and fear
all hail the king who's lonesome and broke
and wears the crown so tight he starts to choke
all desires to be free
we better burn up the throne
burn up the throne
and manifest destiny


©2014, Timothy James Swenson