I need to get this clock fixed,
take the time to make two locked fists.
I'm not ******, just an angry man
wondering if you can block this tirade
as I walk the Devil's terrain trying to stay away from the watch list.
Now, what's this? Someone insane, deranged
circling all of the boxes, fitting
no spaces. Closed faces faced with the most basic,
basest notions of what it is to be abrasive.  
I'm laced with hatred, pacing the naked floorboards.
Repeat; not wasted. A tar tongue tarnished
by the distaste harnessed, placed with
vile eyes to see through veiled lies, blatant.
I surmise you're demise will bless me with
the chance to push you from the precipice,
leaving you with no sentiment
just another piece of sediment.