Crimson Hurricane
Embedded under my lingerie,
stellate and calcified, I crawl to my duvet.
I am counting ibuprofen
in something close to devotion.
Watch me drink it all away -
pour the cabernet.
Moons tug at my hair,
rotten yet so debonnaire,
shuffle cards, shift the blame,
you know me, I’m a crimson hurricane.
The decade buckles under a nurse’s tray,
beckoning like thunder, the womb becomes a grave.
Burying these white incisions
with tattoos and rash decisions.
What’s my new excuse today
to pour the cabernet?
Moons tug at my hair,
rotten yet so debonnaire,
shuffle cards, shift the blame,
you know me, I’m a crimson hurricane.
Seven times you pinned me under,
I didn’t wanna be a mother.
Seven times you pinned me under,
I didn’t even wanna be a mother.
Moons tug at my hair,
rotten yet still debonnaire,
shuffle cards, shift the blame,
you know me, I’m a crimson hurricane.