The Saw

The Saw

Saw serrations eat a separation,
Partitioning pieces of a person.
Consoles connecting the complete,
Worries that weather will worsen.

Discarded saw debris drips down,
Falling on a florid floor to ferment.
Warped words wither and wander,
Altered in ability and to augment.

Separate sections in a seared soul,
Holler and hang about heckling.
Taunting the tarnished outer texture,
Bothered by the berated beckoning.

Maniacal manifestations mull about,
Panting for parole from perdition.
Venting all the vehement vexing,
Surreptitiously sowing their sedition.

He owns his own onerous organs,
His mind’s a more mangled matter.
Internal incongruity is so insipid,
Keep calm in the collection’s chatter.

Otherwise and end he shall see,
I’ll see to it, and me, and me, and me.
EaS