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Muffled sound of fist on flesh | Blows to chest | No breath
Muffled sound of fist on flesh Blows to chest No breath Air gasps You ain't nothing but white trash, bitch! With each hit, each kick, each, broken rib Crack, crack! Bones are crying Mommy's crying and bleeding And pleading And then Daddy wants to fuck Dick hard, swelled with power rush And as if all that wasn't enough Mommy's seven months heavy with birth As, Daddy grunts and cursed drunk nothings in her bloodied ear First, lullaby First, son, will, ever, hear And never forget Mommy almost bled to death when she have him, finally She'd already lost, three Uterus-bruised, shredded, and weak From being daily beat And Friday nights were the worse and Daddy never came with flowers Instead he spent hours at some corner spot With some bar pop named Cookie Putting his thing down Soiling Mommy's sheets with Sweet, talk shit, Cookie's cheap lipstick, Hair grease, sperm, and Jezebel juice To hell with the good news that He was a father for the first time His thirst for wine and women Clouded his vision No warm welcome for mother and son Just The rank smell of ass-crack, funk, and cum But Mommy's prayerful strength-her best defense She, burned the dirty linens Made a fresh bed Laid sleeping First Son down And never made a sound As she purged her scourge With birth-blood and quiet tears Watching as her fears and love and sacrifice Lie there in his soft skin and new life Breathing, dreaming, fresh from God's eye Mommy's little survivor Like, her Mommy called crazy and scorned Cause she two more born One boy soon after The girl much later and Although they were both sung the same lullabies of hate Her, First Son, the first one Whose, womb-world was profaned Came of age playing street games With Stewie, Rezzie, and Little Brother 'Till his heart start to wither In pain and shame Blamed Mom for the wrong she let Daddy do to her And him Let, sins of the Father cause his innocence to wander Found out amongst thieves Chose to squander his dreams Stopped believing in himself Become prodigal with his life Make impossible shit right with Gang-ties, crime, lies Erase wise, woeful words of Mother Replaced them with absurdities of others Who had also lost their way Played a different kind of street game now First Son plunged deep Speak street-family vows Espouse no causes but his own See, he couldn't protect Mommy's neck from Daddy's grasp Or, protect Mommy's ass from Daddy's wrath Couldn't shield her ears from Daddy's foul-mouthed, liquor-breath jeers His only defense-served be confidence Brown bottles housed his swift descent Phones called cops on block frequent for his shenanigans Now, Daddy and him twins in addiction Driven to false-hearted heavens and friends By liquefied demons Had become what he despised from conception 'til end Destined for a demise Survived nine lives of staying high Conning, jewelry-pawning, arrests, theft Womanizing, only for money, never for sex Bullet in chest, baseball bat to the head Left for dead So, eyes wide and glassy Speech, slowed and slurred Lips twitched with caked-up codeine candy And mouth corners one December 24th Mr. Hide and False Friend Took final ride to suburban supplier Shots were fired by the gray man With shaky hand But not shaky enough to miss Hit, Lost Boy in back So-called Friend runs for door Leaves First Son blood-born Lying alone in blood on cold floor Death was the cause of Returning to Innocence Lost Baby 'Sis awake for dawn on Christmas morn To Mommy's sobs and shakes Daddy's silhouettes of regret All past, omitted, and absolved by lost As they clung to each other Knowing
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