Trimming

The machines are loaded and baited beneath murmurs of some simple explanation.  
Crudely within an ex-planation and wavering ‘tween the sheets of depreCate and mediCate,  
no poison more bitter than the barracks of being; all exploded and expanded upon.  
No safe places in a prison cell only so wide and not fitting through that salad dressing room.  
Having spent all of my life whale watching from the OutKast shadows, just to be scared of nutrition for fear that their non-fear would come to fruition.