When the skin is cracked like dry earth,
do I grimace from pain or smile from desire?  

When skin is cracked like dead earth,
do I mourn or elevate?

To tear at flesh for obsession is to clear the shadows of repetition from the heart.

Do I grimace or smile,  when the red moon is hanging from the sky?

Is the grimace and smile different when the cracks in the clay are true?

Is it just a loop, like a snake swallowing it's tail?
Is it just a vice?
Is it medicine or malintent?

Is it better to have chaos inside and a perfect snowy field or sooth the forever storm and endeavor through the cracked desert until the end of historia?