when fear finds new homes to hide
fingertips, fire and cyanide
blazing trembles, roaring tide
quiet voices quietly abuse,
and silence blazes a fiery bruise
when you're left drinking
cyanide and month-old *****
no more tremblings left to choose
screaming like quiet voices do
when licking fire finds them
roaring too,
and ashes feel more like ice cubes
than his words do.