Locs
These locs grow because I'm in pain
It likes blood, the sticky redness
slipping through the cracks in my hand as I stroke it
It's gonna keep falling down my back
past my shoulders, coming to a point at the bottom of my spine
The spine that bended for you in order for you to hold
the bloody beating organ under your foot
Copper smelling liquid slipping down the cracks of my ghetto sidewalk.
I lap it up with my tongue to swallow it into my veins
Blue veins like that moon that cycles my stream
