I will ****** them for pennies
Fearless and vicious like
Thank you for the skill set
I will die for you alone
Cheerless and unaccomplished
I will never say a word
            afterwards
Now listless and absurd
I will always lie for you
As long as you pay me
You have my allegiance
(I have no allegiance)
My salute is in vain
             We never fought a war
I still keep our secrets

    that **** was pure slaughter
I remember
What we are
                      But thank you for the skill set
And the scars
                  Now ******* pay me

Without the full deck
      Discourse is weakened
      Fallacy becomes inevitable

Regardless of intention. . .

Compelled speech
Always and eventually
      Breeds tyranny

For when you "should not"
      By Law
Becomes you "cannot"
      Plan the funeral
Free thought is dead

When all my blood is estranged
Is it then that I become deranged?
Already self-loathing and anti-family
So maybe I can’t stand my own genetics                        
Perhaps I see myself as unequivocally cunty
And maybe I cannot stand the things that made me
Is this what makes one deranged?
Self-destructive and anti-happy
When all the blood is estranged
And the world is just animals
To be coldly devoured. . .
This seems to me quite deranged

To sadness and death
The immortals are ignorant
As the price of mortality
In trading heaven for ashes
Could never appeal to them
     And learning the losses
Of temporal relations
And tragic emotions
In the most intimate of ways
      In the flesh of this world
Becoming deranged with heartache
Completely ruined by loss
      No one signs up for that
But it reveals a secret to life
To know everything ends
Gives us this present
These moments in time
How it all becomes precious
Is to know that it ends
And we ain't gonna like it
     What makes the immortals so jealous
Is that they have nothing to lose
No concept of heartache
No knowledge of loss
Without sadness or death
What could they possibly know about life?

At first what did grip me I could not understand
Like everything new
One does not at first know
And as fools do I did stumble
Still, moment to moment
Always constantly
My interest seeds the path of my development
While all stimuli calls me
What I truly am
Abstractly, I will be drawn to
More naturally...
For this fool to become master
I must follow my interest
To develop my path
I must embrace those adventures
With a full heart and a brave mind
But above all else, to myself, always truthfully

I’ll turn you all into nails
If you make me a hammer
Per Law of the Instrument
I will become militant
Repetitive and constant
A Birmingham Screwdriver
Full of confirmation bias
Painting the world a disaster
With only one way to fix her
If you make me a hammer
I'll turn you all into nails

losing all
your will
your everything
until a shell
flat broke
with money
becomes of you
full of angry
frustrated
and raging
confusion
so now here I am
existing without enemy
and what's next...
is nothing special,
day in and day out
alone
empty
in a room
with battle trinkets
and more nothings
describing situations
long past
remembering awful things
in convoluted ways
dreaming of past missions
loves, friends and reasons
coloring in the edges
to make for a more
palatable being
to be remembered
with glee and reverence
in satisfaction...
but for long
it never lasts
and now all's collapsing
on all sides
losing structure
becoming distorted
leading to dilapidation
like an abandoned diorama
left to ruin
left to weather
left to be forgotten
my mother always said...
"memories cannot save themselves"
- grave yards are stupid