Full Of Hell Barb And Sap
To claim: of yours, of mine, the same
To grasp. To drink from life's boiling spring
Thistled fingers warm and bend
Calling your children home hungry
Baited aurum and cocked lilly eyed lust
Perched like a jaundiced vulture, wings spread in vain
For anything to clutch. Bones of contention
To drink, with blistered lips
To grasp, in hands of barb and sap
Your greed, it sticks to your bones
It sinks to your marrow and calls you home