this syrup to exchange

it's a early rise, his teeth are furred, and cleanse with hands to hunt and hold, the sun divides, imagined leaves, a shelter while i sleep, there are many years, to cloud my mind, but no burden, it's heavy like a tipping load, early day, on a bloodied patch, only noise and brick surround, tradition sinks, in the soil here, as a rock is swallowed in the mud, the polluted skin, of my brittle earth, it keeps the bleeding at bay, this syrup sweet and thick to exchange me, my spirit has rearranged, crippled, dampened, lame, as it goes, the syrup fills my eyes, the days faces fade to black, and i don't feel, and i can't fight, for my home anymore, anymore, and i return to an open land, where bloods blanket shielded me, this syrup sweet and thick to exchange me, my spirit has rearranged, crippled, dampened, lame