Is like a songbird
Flying headfirst into a glass window

Gears continuously grind.
Bit by bit.
More is chiseled away.
A steady.
Screeching pace.
But it is the silence that must be feared.
When the cranking continues.
And no momentum gained.
The beast moves just for that point alone.
Out of routine.
With insides rusted.
And oiled.
Progress seems relevant.
Sought for even.
But this robotic organism is hard.
To face.
Alone.
Is a constant.
Talk.
Sick.
A rampaging viral plague.
Calculated they say.
Must this faux dance recital.
Go on.
Only until it all.
Comes down

The cold touch of steel masonry
it's violent barrage of iron shell
and the crashing thunder with raining shrapnel

2.
The rain, the mud, and ****** terrain
swiftly it crashes through the enemy lines
with it, a swarm of bayonets and steel helmets

3.
Piles of broken bone and empty artillery
raging inferno's and gray smog
****** bodies and a white flag....

I've got to be a *******
I drag my bloodied body back home after each visit
Stitch together my mutilated tongue with each kiss
I've never cried but god help me I'm close to trying
Cold blooded fighting, I'm sorry
Void-less sleep, I see only light and misdirection
1,000 and 1 side roads and no map
I got more keys then I'll ever need but they all only open one door
I crawl back to you, on my knees, begging for a slap, a punch
A brutish reality to stop the unease
But your words are too sweet, they hurt my gums
The only metal you own is a shield, sacrifice your lungs to block me
******* you must be a *******
Cause you let me break my bones on your skin
Ruin you with each word
I'm sorry

the words hide between the lines
i can't see
none will appear, none
will grace the page
only splatter red paint
onto the ****** canvas—
where i have bled out my soul, my heart,
my flesh and bone—

and for what?

Crushed peanut shells are
scattered all over the floor

Beer bottles smashed,
blood drips from the roof

A body hangs from the rafters
loyal patrons play
a ***** filled game of Russian roulette

**** stains plastered all over the bathroom floor
cockroach's and rats run rampant  
raging alcoholics throw fist and set fire to bar stools

Drunker stupors, and stain glass windows rule
people call it martial law but I call it a regular Monday night...