Tool

I pace the room
aggressive and volatile a caged animal
barbarian raider
all set to rape and plunder
burn and rob and bathe in blood
of enemies i've never met.
The anxiety screws in all rust-grudgingly.
I am walking in the shoes
of heavy tension legs pumping napalm
ATP overdrive
clocking through G's.
I am the pilot with malice teeth
depersonalized destroyer with 80mm rotary guns
laser-giuded bombs of insecurity
discontent-ridden motivations.
Factory of overflowing neuroglycerine
fueled by uranium-235.
Multistage maniac with rapid-fire moodswings
set free to rampage.
Clearcut slashed and burned ground up spit out
my hate
the world made of stone.
I am a tool hiding
in the shed
under
empty junk cans and discarded curiosities
eras dead forgotten forcably altered
hating the stone for its hardness
and the chips and the gouges
and the blunt of my blade.