I ask...

I stand steadfast within the mast of a half black cast
There are thoughts which gleam somewhere in between you and me
Lost within selfish thoughts that ought not come into question at this point
But the way the tree sways rarely decides where the tides will end up crashing
The salute of passing time documented on the demented section of heraldic heretic's questions
At the last forthcoming of wrath racked on Atlas' back
And the rots of the have and half-knots deem with the lighting
Blotting out the worms in a raven's broken beak that speaks in tongues that anoint
Although we know that such things are for those who find home in fasting the everlasting
Depriving one's heart of the ends and the start too smart for a hope and love worth mentioning
Saw off the limbs and clever whims that clash
With rigged bowels back-lashed over trash not taken out to sea
To choke with smoke and oil laced boils attracting light of a dying joint
Where we drink to deliver livers to the shivering quivers our hands are sustaining
Without complaining about feigning maintaining of an obese thesis of modern determinations
Growing within the pours of the poor like a rash
Empty men start again without learning the vital points of being a being
Swallowing pride until insides subside like flies flying in the ointment's mouth
And the queries and theories started then scribbled out begin a routine remaining
The ego cannot slow down by a smile defeating the frown if there is no inner revelations
So sew the few left rights by sipping at a flask
Ruining a serene scene of the cracks and what lies in between such things
If the point of a finger is dull enough to linger on inane memories gone south
Should it not be bent back to the owner's bones broken by bowing a head now failing
Yet sailing on a journey now turning intestines invested in questions of our own creations?