by Morgenrede
This generation
is premature
degeneration
of enhanced shellshock
and imbedded torsos;
of assembly line gears
and deformed fingers;
of nicotine spit
and extracted teeth;
of windshield raindrops
and bloodshot vision
aiming down iron sights
for one, quick kill;
I sleep in synesthesia,
unattended by incentive,
perverted by internalized
grenade fragmentations
of hopelessness
and ash;
the days of dead men never stop;
they are instead reengineered
by the replacement of limbs
and the pursuit of Jericho’s revenge;
Every march makes it mark,
as an army of gold trumpets sing
just to make foreign ears bleed;
We cower in the deep quagmires
of our most precious confessions,
because we are the nightmares of scorn
collectivized into the unconscious labor
of a thousand devils hard at work;
Faithfulness replaces amnesia,
and it takes, and takes, and takes,
until it leaves behind
muscles of pure reflex
and primal fear;
When that worldly silence
gives birth to eternal ringing,
then we can only be prepared
to hide behind our will
and wait for orders;
In the absence of tangible reason,
I am but a sharpened knife;