» Third Internal Combustion

Third Internal Combustion

Why has, all hatred not broken down the door, just settled to a simmer?

There is no conflict, non-internal, no outward expression.

New angers lay like bricks, I am the master mason,

Forge a sadistic structure.

As pieces erode and decay, they are erased,

The upkeep has cost a lifetime.

The upkeep has cost a lifetime.

Burned and charred is every inch of flesh,

Peeled and torn finger nails ripped back,

Shattered, every, bone in my hand,

Force is getting me nowhere.

The fear of eternal, internal damnation, grows in hastening fashion,

It stokes the fire, and it grows.

Fuck it all, I sit and burn, the effort involved so far its not worth the wait.

A simple brush fire, evolved, evade the counter of hate.

Is it here?

The force of farce has left marks charred and flesh torn.

I belong?

Sacrificial blood of unfortunates left unborn.

Is shape left?

Ash raining, haunting me.

In my form?

Lungs corroded from a dry acrid smoke,

Pressure between, scratch a dry, bleeding throat.

Tissues weep, and fall from their place,

Barbaric skinshed, leeched from all my rage.

Perhaps theres possibility, to reform,

Outside my own construct cage,

Once I finish burning in my own,

Fires of rage.