Too much of anything

A single instance more is all he asks
Devoured in a moment withing the tasks
Developed by the rest of life, how hard, how far, how hard
Inside his mind he requires more
Careless of all but that single little sore
Ticking time bomb, waiting to be scarred, waiting to be free, waiting to be scarred
Itching until he brings it back to start again
Objecting to any question about it but that of when
Nearing yet a further destination, another graveyard, another bed, another graveyard

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