The dog that bites.

All I want to do is sit in the sad of it,

to Miss Havisham it all as I watch the decay of it.

to keep my ears shut to Your say of it.

And to poke at the barely eaten scraps of it.

But I can't even crawl through the thick of it

because my mind is lost to the heart of it,

and when I try to remember the crux of it,

my aging brain alludes to the wrong shade of it.

So here I sit wishing to wander through the mess of it.

only to be cleaned and renewed from the grime of it,

and up, up, up You take me away from it,

like a child squealing for the dog that bites.