Some monstrous inner cause calls me to pry back my
carbonate armour, my hard and heavy eyelid and glow upon the
savage tribes that wander the map of my nerves, hunting prey,
knocking wood weapons, shillelaghs and spears against the gaunt
black wood of my bones, and against the volcanic rock of my brain
tissue.
	They thrive in flailing families, each tribe with longer
teeth and louder clambering.  They trample me with cruel intimacy,
dance thrusting across my spread flesh.  They gambole in the glare
of my beliefs.
	Desperate, I try to shriek the WORDS, the calling, and
 bare my vicious mask, unleash my greenest glow....
	I am sucked under by my own voice to suffocate, the
WORDS escaping in bright thought bubbles, still unspoken.