Spent

I think this was an exercise of writing in congruence with the dynamics and mechanising yet terribly messy/grotesque imagery present here.. it wasn't at all idiomatic but it was fun clunking away

A wasting begets the trodden
Who, shovelling industrial ideas as-conveyors of ear to mouth

Leads the fists to the soft spots on the pooling messes
-Those that Ideas painted into less-thans

Biled and eagerly smeared with stuttering mills
On the dark-noise projectors, receivers and rancid stench believers

Spewing black muck engulfs now, adheres to won't-be-faces
Oily run now lumped with bones and sinew, remaining spent

There's no recognizing except in mess. Enemy