The wrath inside you boils from your rage; your anger elevates to drown your sense. My blindness has deluded me as sage, serene and irreproachably intense.
It’s likely that my passive nature’s pushing my little brother, you, – who hates that term – straight to hear discordant, silent ringing as wrath’s contorted demon crisply worms
into your weakened ear to fill your mind with bubbles, red, and bursting sound, and DARK – which spread like darkened dust-storms into mine. That ready wrath, red and quick to spark
burns best those minds invulnerable to sin – such smug-singed souls sink – slaves to self-delusion.