The Curious Case of the Kitchen Catastrophe.

This all went down in a kitchen (but not my kitchen).

You took my hand and then her mouth started running.

Though wisdom be your namesake, a product of sigma, alpha, phi.

These characters grace my pages daily as I seek to describe the universe as it is.

But this sum does not converge to any reasonable answer,

Instead slamming doors diverging to a subjective infinity,

Divided by tolerance and patience, in this case both of which are identically zero. 

Your reasons are like the luminiferous aether:

A convenient explanation for your chaos, but alas not real.

You seem not to tire in creating new evidence of hurt.

Each trial is a costly experiment, you bite feeding hands,

Which recoil like guns at the deftest of a fingertip touch.

You convert by fission the most dynamic of souls to base lead,

Their energy worn and spent.

 

Your negative energy, however, is limitless.

It too diverges to infinity.

Your outbursts loom and terrify,

Leaving many to seek cover and distance.

Your radiation sickness is a potent poison.

I am no iodine, but I will do what I can to limit the dose.

You will not harm them.