It feels like something

needs to break;

like a joint yearning to crack.

Release found through

destruction, degeneration.

Relief found in pain and wrack.

A change is needed before

everything ceases to work.

All beds made must be laid in,

but the tension and hour

are too great and late.

Any action is a decision;

results and repercussions a

discussion for another day.

It's not the pain that leads

towards suicide,

but rather the thought of

relief that slows the steps

in front of speeding cars;

starting fights impossible to win.

It feels like something needs

to break.

Bones are beginning to creak

as they pray

the end is near.