Adam's Apple

Back in the garden where the juice dripped down my teeth,

I prayed up to God, Let my wounds cut my rib deep.

And he sent a glowing angel to my tomb.

And she woke me up to tell me that my sentence just ain't over yet.

I like you here,

stick around and watch me grow

like a few of the bones

inside of me.

I like my teeth...

but I can't stand the rib,

the one that's soaked in me.

Oh, the horror!

Get a heated ice cream spoon

and stick it between my fourth and fifth rib.

See it glisten evil in the moon

and pluck it out into the fire pit.

Get your bestest nice mean goon

and tell em flick it into the sun’s lip.

Sell it to no one, just burn it good,

just make it gone into ash and bits.

Burn my rib--

Burn my rib--

Burn my rib--

Burn my rib--

And I will follow swiftly,

before fruit slips from my womb—

to hit the dirt it's destined to swallow or to chew

either only by gravity, or to only by loom.