I shall amend the last line
Give me my sand and water so I can remove such a blight for you

What
You do not wish my hand to slay the crosses and lines?
Have a stain where I wrote my minutes lost forever
And not my original pact?
Then why stay my hand?
Did it occur that as I set my tools to bed
And pick up another tail from the carcass you made me ****
Something like this would not stifle me
And you?

Fine
Have it your way either way you spin my grip
I am only the tangible extension of your whims
Mine are gone with the soul of discarded beast at my table
The thought not crossing my mind to follow its shadow while you stare
Your eyes bore holes into my back until I bleed out the right words for you
And you grant me passage to take my own flight

I shall amend the next line
Give me my sand and water so I can clean such a messy thought for you

Distraction impede the motion of the text
As I am stuck in irons of punctuation you keep shape-changing
Broken out of comma's pauses
And you slap the final periods onto my palms that I can never step from
Blots form on the statements then
And enraged that I resist you start again

Yes
I am listening to what you have said
As my fingers dig trenches into my wrist I hear you
I hear you even when I am given time to sleep
Your orders yet another pain of baring flesh
Shred down to its rawest level by my patience to not depart
In the smallest fraction of clarity as you blink to reset your retinue

I shall amend the first line
Give me my sand and water so I can change such a story for you

Whenever you breathe the final end
Be it in my lifetime or the one I have left to stand you
Let it be that I catch your exhale in a empty inkwell
And trap your toxic soul in the same black that is the colour of your self
I would very much like to chain you to this prison dwelling
Watch as I sit ***** to crack and flex and breathe out your affect

Indeed I know ahead
The present master by my chair guide a tired limb
To make a yay a nay and a day forever
As your telling dawdles into nonsense does it blend
Make friends of enemies and daggers into pens
Must I suffer any longer re-stepping over the same syllables
I will not hesitate to respell a weapon out of my instruments