When I was a small child we lived like animals.

My mind races, not like the turtle,
loose and slow paced over the hurdles
but the rabbit, minus all those naps
just an automatic rifle firing synapse snaps

so let me explain
that every time you wake me up
with a sludge to my brain
it's the same

it's insane
it's like the time I stood
in someone else's neighborhood
and though, damn, this looks good

until I came inside and saw
all the fiberglass that lived in the walls
itching at my skin
until the scratches got in

and daddy would bust her jaw
and daddy might bust my jaw
and I might learn to run
before I learned to crawl

babygirls wanna stay young
and boys always say “I'm grown now,
“I'm a grown ass man, I'll show you how,”
and he cracks you

cracks you right in two
right into a pipe or a crack in the wall
tonight I'll sleep in the hall
or the bathtub

but we won't leave the house
rather live like a mouse
hiding between the panels
the quiet spots between flipping channels

silent, don't make a peep
silent, don't let him hear you weep
silent till he sleeps
and we creep creep creep

for a little bit of life in the dark
because sometimes the dog's bite
is worse than his bark
and tonight, tonight

he just might, he just might
break his chain