@k copelin,
Yes, I’ve always been mayhem condemned.
And always been hedged-in and hemmed-in,
In this pilgrimage of, first life breath to,
even worst, this nearly present trench-knife breadth.
Yes, both life and death require courage and battle;
And this hellcat has always been a hell of a nocturnal warrior;
So I remain as hell-bent as I've always been to rattle in this descent.
Yes, I got a hawk’s eye view of the war,
And it’s always been that sinking feeling that makes me nauseous.
And yes, I’m the damn colonel and the damn commander and the damn king, but;
For this one combat,
I’ve never been as ready as,
I now am.
My damn crown is covered by,
Crew-cut covered by,
Kerchief covered, by
The smoke of my cigar;
Its always been the chrome coverin’ of my skeleton,
Like the violent joke of the Mylar trench-coat of arms;
That made covert this shrinking-violet heart.
Yes, le diable à quatre and I’ve had enough of this fat in the fire,
And fire of eyes and fire of faith,
I’ve always been inhuman and inhumane,
And that fisticuff rampage was always waiting for this coup de main;
Brute-force trench-mouth hemorrhage,
Wore my fists thin,
Always been, the best and the last,
But this wasn’t post-traumatic stress,
Just a damn temper tantrum,
Childish feeling of omnipotence,
For this phantom intoxicated me with my own infinitude.
Callous.
As I always been.
For this one combat,
I’ve never been as ready as I am right now,
To go home.
And here I am, a stranger to my own,
Mother at her funeral.
And I’ve always been alienated,
But here I am,
And they use this as flimsy evidence of cold-blooded murder.
My final hope,
Is that there will be a crowd,
At my execution,
To great me with howls,
Of execration;
Or at least a healthy ration,
Of a well-deserved murmur.
But forgiveness burns;
And as an invitation for this pilgrimage,
I am as I’ve always been.
