​Racehorse: Get Married! (Early Version)

You fuck like a racehorse! it's your wedding day, say: yes
You want to be pollinated, frays of friction far too sacred
We survive between our hunger, dig our heads into the water
Memorize your casket your mother patterns
The space between your legs
I grab what's good of you
You pluck fruit from my endless head
Re-arrange them to make your salt sweat
Bite snakes down for better shelter
Fridge your orgasm make it colder
We put our blood in bags we don't want water &
You hold me close inside the slaughter
You look so much better without sonnets in your hair
I mean: saddles if you need them, but i could ride you bare
You can swallow shotguns if you want to
There are bullets in your paintings, if you want them
There are hooks to hang your kill
There are floodboards rising upwards
Fields our fathers fled from, and bedrooms we don't dare go to
I would like a word with you!
You can swallow shotguns if you want to
And you can shed the lions from your songs
Take the blankets off! show me under your clothes
The tattoos you don't have but believe me:
Your body knows!
You can swallow shotguns if you want to
It's your wedding day, say: yes
Say: aprons or rifles, anarchist?
Sleep in the slaughterhouses?
Quilts quiet made from our spit?
I am letting
All
You
Horses
Go
(you are better wild my arms are coming out)