We The Tenacious

Holding it together is an art
practiced wholly by the tenacious.
Durable through long periods of time
when sanity is away with his friends:
contempt and feeling.
They writhe among constant throes
of caustic mourning.

Rasping out winter water vapour in bright black,
the incoming ice coats lungs;
while stomachs sing of superior times.
I find when the atmosphere has perished,
and the devil has my heart on his sleeve.
It is always best to look to veracity
and realise you’re dead anyway.

When eyes are glued shut
with tears never to be shed.
The tenacious tend to taper; until only
a resolute decision to fight remains.
Are you with me or against me?
For only so many night-time murderers
can be slain with a single sword.
Stand stubborn beside your worries,
tenacious eyes held straight ahead.