Chuck always ends up waxing poetic around his trainees. About how professional wrestling is a dance—a violent choreography of chokeholds and suplexes, timed to the tune of their bookers' ... [+]
The pomegranate seeds you offered
turned me inside out.
My fibrous insides turned against me,
pulling my straightjacket taut.
I can't see from the inside,
I can only feel the cold.
I know you won't release me,
but lay me in the marigolds.
turned me inside out.
My fibrous insides turned against me,
pulling my straightjacket taut.
I can't see from the inside,
I can only feel the cold.
I know you won't release me,
but lay me in the marigolds.