carnalascetic

Get the machine running
Turn and tune up
Optimum efficiency
An explosion of raw power
I will not be that one
The cow grazing in the field
The fattened bloated one
I will not be.
Munching on the blades of apathy
Nibbling on shrubs of resignation
Chewing loudly on surrender's greenery
Masticating listlessly the buds of lethargy
A belly full of abandonment
Digesting abdication
The relinquishment-rich diet of that field
Will not be mine.
I will not surrender
Cede an inch to your bullshit
To your outright lies
The denial of what can and could be
So close
Just beyond your grasp
But you are too lazy
Too stupid to lift your sluggish hands
For even one effort
One true attempt
To grab hold of it.
So I'll be the machine
Tearing ass into your pasture
Mercifully plowing into you
And backing up
To peel out on your head.