Molten Cold

 

he bought the propaganda
so now he lurks in a fetid stinking trench
and he requires revenge
because he bought the propaganda
so now he lurks in a fetid stinking trench..

fears incandescent lap and lick
the infinite rage sine wave
hate self-hate press here for here
the thumping arrowhead rotates..

arrived unbidden and poleaxed him
the unvarnished truth the truth
the nods the whispers
the shocking revelations correlated
a consoling hand on his shoulder
yeah i believed all that too..

to the hollow marching drum beat
where suspended disbelief once cheerily swilrled
the lies self-entangling unforgiving confining
caress cold the molten man..

amid mundane conversation and gallows humour 
the attriting 
matter-of-fact shell-shocked grief-stricken
ice floes collide a mountain collapse
frazzled senses lacquer the frying balm..

no..
so should we be here at all..
…so why are we..
oh.

he bought the propaganda
so now he lurks in a fetid stinking trench
and he requires revenge
because he bought the propaganda
so now he lurks a fetid stinking trench..