It is the thing of bones –
****** dry of marrow –
That breathes ice and whispers –

You’ve felt It near
The warmest hearth –
That chill which twines
Up the back and settles
About the neck – choking –
Writhes Its way between vertebrae –
Imbeds within the spine –

You’ve seen how It drags
Its engorged belly over
Threadbare carpets
To rest Its head on wet kindling
During frigid nights –
Props open Its mouth
With stale loaves of bread
And waits –

You’ve heard It gnaws
On the nubs of bleeding
Nails – amputates fingers
With ground-down teeth
Flat and yellow in Its maw –
Cauterizes the wounds
With frostbite –

It will visit you
On your last bed –
Seeping through too-thin sheets
And stealing a face
You don’t recognize –
You’ll think you heard it say:
My name is –

Buzzards leave the bones,
You swallowed me whole

Stuck in your craw
Sore throat, Laryngitis

Cough me up,
My pain stays

Scraping esophagus
To a ****** tonic

Taste your own medicine,
Choke on it.

Hoarse, you call
Stop, please, why

I’ve stuffed my ears with
A cotton candy lie

Sweet and fleeting
No substance

Hollow bones break easy
Like your  promise

Buzzards leave the bones,
You devoured my soul

To those who would cross me

given the smallest reason

I bid you, come forth

and bear my hellish season

The system is flawed
Suicidal kids together
Make up our population

Too early to be awake
Minds are blank, eyes wander
Just a shitload of ***** teens