Oxbow
Skin
The c*ckhorse
Teeth like sugar cubes
Plays the blues
Balls hanging
Between his between
Like crab apples
Withered and stoned
And Joseph and Jesus and Belial
Can't hold him
The length and breadth
Of that next mile
Or the one beyond that
Or beyond that yet
Or ever
Or again
Or now
His seed spill
Like a kerosene
Or a gasoline
And it burns him
From inside and out
And the more he go
The more he got
To go

To go
Hobbing his knob
Like burnished bra**
Against the fat of a**
Like j*rking off was his job
And when it dies
When he dies
It is how he's gonna die
Wrapped around hisself
So hard
Taking inches
Into yards
Riding riding riding
C*ckhorse hating his hide
And hiding his hate
Potentate
Of the small
And the great