The wolf is an industrial complex.

I am a girl.  I wear a red coat.

I am simple.

I am a wolf.  I am naked.  

I am industrial.  I am complex.

I am an industrial complex lurking in the woods and I would eat myself, in a word, whole.

I am a noun and a static verb.

A catch.

I run wild and engender terror and fear.

I am oil.  I am a weapon.  I am waste.

I am feasting my eyes and I would swallow us both, whole.

I am wolf with teeth, claws, and paws.

I am a hopeless cause, dependent on you.

A lifelong sentence, this dreadful vigil, waiting for the woodcutter to tear me apart or

pull me out whole.

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