Fuelled by the Midsong Fist

Fuelled by the midsong fist
Flung into deadly orbit
Everyone crowding, bustling, weaving
Suffocating me with their words
No one to hear but the birds.
Suited in defiance and lust and agony
Cloaked in paper forests of coal
He comes to reap with hair of iron
Yet leaves with nothing but leaves.

Sinewy gifts cluttering his vacant mind
Look at me - look away
Away, away to the forest of coal
Crackling liveries
Furnacing finery
Fluctuates and wriggles so eloquently in honey.
From the skies came he
Mastermind of soliloquy
No one to hear but the birds.

Thoughts inflaming wooden tongues
Lapping at the ears of wheat that lie forgotten
By the blanketed hatch.
Scattered by unseeing eyes
By careless whimsies? No.
Careless idiots, none here but ashes.
Ashes and flames and dust and bones.