//I'm falling apart from the inside out
crumbling like toy soldiers defeated in battle
my defenses are
down, my strong façade
melts away//
Havoc. It's a feeling, an emotion, a noun and a verb. To create destruction,
chaos, disorder and devestation. It is the act of destroying, or pillaging. It's also a name. Her name. (c)
//Emotions rage inside me
a bull in the china shop of my soul
demolishing my obsidian heart//
Scientists
would call her Canis Lupus Baileyi, natives: el lobo. She was a Mexican Wolf, a dying species. She came from the hot, dry
deserts of the south; was unused to the cold winters covered in snow.
She looked like a cat almost, the way her long
whiskers brushed against her fur. (c)
//Each time I smile
the shattering of glass//
She was of the smallest subspecies of wolves in North
America, about the size of a medium sized dog. Her small face was more reminicent of a fox, rather than a wolf. Large, globe-sized
ears and a thin muzzle were dotted with bright red spots, followed by golden eyes. The remainder of her body was a roaned
mix of browns, blacks, whites, and reds.(c)
//I am wreckage adrift in a sea of chaos,
waves of memories, anger, and love
desperate for something
to cling to//
As her slender legs propelled her through greenery, mind and senses were working at a million miles a
minute. She paused as the wafting scent of alien wolves reached her flaring nostrils. Releasing her head, she howled loudly,
the sound bouncing off trunks in the distance. (d)
