As lips part, unleashed dogs rip and wrought.
Choking on the tiniest thought.
That burn away nirvanic benediction.
And grabs the wood for your own crucifixion.
For a pox you are in eyes of scarlet tension.
A strangled lie of incomprehension.
That simmers to a sinner’s plea.
The fragile-ness of complexity.
Havoc and Consequence 