Pragmatic incantations
Of incandescent situations
Slide
          Softly
                     Soundless
Changing tributaries
of rearranging  
                         (Grin stricken
                  Hands poised to choke
                 Plans to spread the yoke
                    There flaming arms
    Your deepest thoughts they will invoke)
                              Faces
Poised to take the fibers of your being
Tie them up with a festive greeting
And hang you high to watch the bleeding