Bobby Bland

Meat without speech

Locked in a toolshed

Meat without a name

Rent by the light of candle

Meat without will

Meat without a voice

And wobbling in darkness

Is a dance misery preordained

A mother and father do not have to be a biological disaster

They could be kindred spirits and weirdly moving

Meat without sense

Meat without a mind

Meat that takes

Earned by the whims of a Grendle

Confront the friction and feather

Of obsessive obliteration

A brother and sister do not have to be a biological disaster

They could be kindred spirits and weirdly moving

Threatened by someone who is already threatened

Standing up to them all like a single polka dot