on the brink

Maximum capacity reached stranded in the breech, on the brink and at attention the lanyard wire rests transparent in the street Renoir ate the leaves of the thistle tree I want to join him on the edge of the sea bulging arrows point into thin air the bulk of the weigh propped on the edge of the gate swaying only in the heaviest of winds gallantly gleaming with the pride of a whore the stranded minds of our pigeon chested leaders want me to wear the cap that reads- this war is a bore. I ain't gonna watch no war no more