The Gusher

These are stains upon your genes

You play me

Fresh

And new

Twenty lashes in the drain

Collecting

Soapy

Residue

The water in the sink, turns brown

Power to be clear, swishing it around

You scrape

The skin

With a

Razor blade

Not the end it's supposed to be

Display me

Boxed

Re-viewed

All the tears in Tennessee

For the positive

Lover

Or freak

Passing with the speed of sound

Hours to be here buried in the ground

Soon to touch

The ass

Of god's

Gusher