Loved One in the Blast Zone

what are you when you're invisible?
divisible?
the summation of your parts ignored
beyond threat, beyond het!
beyond reproach.

what are you when you're concealed?
a rusty mess of feelings,
a rising crescendo.
you'l come crashing down,
and you'll be sure to keep it quiet
when you convulse

there's a handful of rooms.
there's a scattering of wounds.
we pick across the landscape with great care.
drawing breath sharply, not unaware.
there's a ghost with the most who's got your number in the post
and it'll never arrive and that is never going to be totally fair.
the solution is simple; do not despair.

what am i when i'm poked?
what flames will billow forth from my maw when i'm stoked?
there's a high, there's a low, there's every which way we could possibly go
and I'm stuck, given up, not quite sure if this is enough.
it has to be enough.
i'm about to flare.
i'm about to flare and it has to be enough.
there's gonna be a blast wave, a ginger haze,
checking my mileage by clocking my top speed
reeking of weed
and leaving you flailing and complaining alone in my blaze.

what are you when you're invisible?
what am i when i'm divisible?
 it's not debatable that i'm imitable!
i make the illegible accessible, the archaic is defined;
i'm the tower of course, a tour de force, and i'm sight out of mind.
what are you when you're despair?
what am i when i flare?
and what will be left of any of this?

we shall see.