In-Line

There itches and itch
when there isn't a stone.
There trembles an ache
in your powder-prone bones.
There mumbles an order
when the jury's alone.
They offer a sentence,
a sigh, or a moan.
There ages a habit.
There shivers a lie.
There's your invitation;
there waits your reply.
There is your banker,
revising your will.
There is your hunger,
and there is your kill.