spread me thin or not at all

Upward turned and stern a revelation.
Last year's birds return this jubilation:
"Information's learning through an interventions burning brew."
True.
With one last blue faced fume.
Enter the curfew ladened residue.
You must evict the things I tell you to.
Instigations give broken road walkabouts to revelation,
But the beast left no markings here upon me.
Sweat and blood and pain
and broken fist on walls we regret to see each day.
My enamel is chipped and peeled away.
Starboard and stalwart.
Is there nothing left in this migration?
These few steps I take each year have been decidedly false
and left me wanting more than I could ever expect to get out of you.