Line in the trenches

Climbed out of grave
blood red and torn bone,
a splash of dust in the eyes,
coated black soot in the teeth,
no lines in the shopping mall,
spines breaking, keep stalking
while your brain worry.
just your lower intestinal
track,
that keeps the train rolling,
rolling to the dead end...
and finally reaching your wake.

Break away from the wires,
holding grip, finger bones
creak with the shrill of a bat,
no black grit in my cup,
just some smoke rising from the ground
filling up the streets,
with the deadpan air.

counting all the blister
that got you popping...got you
boiling till you can't sleep
hold your lips don't speak
its a long way down
with a long speech to hear..
inside of a wooden..
eternal sleeping bag.

oh the worms have me for supper,
but i dont forget to grab my tip...
and a fortune cookie crumbles
to the floor whats my divine luck...

but the strip of paper looked back
with grim eye's,
and had nothing to say.