Grit

Grit in my teeth
a grinding of the word,
kick a man when he’s down
you know he’ll be heard

Traction is spinning
a revolution of sand,
flies through the air
and sifts through my hands

My abrasive tongue
burns in sweet rhyme,
while the architect
paints the perfect crime

You the pedestal of love
cry out in your longing,
forgetting who you are
in all your belonging

A play upon this world
acted out so perfectly,
a fine display of actions
all applied so correctly

Plumes of lost feathers
shine so bright,
in the magic of your mime
it will never be right

You fool yourself
into believing your real,
as you fumble into darkness
and no one wants your deal

Try a losers cause
you swine of the living,
I’ll put you in your pen
for all the sins you are giving