It comes with teeth —
sharp and glinting beneath an implacable smile,
sinking in slow,
pressing firmly against bone
until breath feels too thin
and mornings blur into shadows.
It waits beneath my tongue,
a bitter taste I can’t spit out,
curling through my chest,
tight as wire,
soft as fog.
It knows how to be silent,
until it doesn’t.
Until it’s ripping through the walls,
scratching at the seams,
a low growl in the hollow of my ribs.
And the talons —
God, the talons —
hooked deep in muscle and marrow,
dragging me down
to the cold floor of my mind,
where light flickers thin as breath
and silence hums like static.
It pulls —
slow and steady,
through hours that fold into nothing,
through days that taste like dust.
I let it.
Sometimes it’s easier that way.
But there’s always a sliver of air,
a crack of light under the door.
And somehow,
somehow —
my hands find it.
The teeth leave scars.
The talons bruise deep.
But I rise,
aching,
raw,
breathless —
still here.

The petals cling—
not out of need,
but by nature.
Crushed silk
beneath my boots,
they rise with each step,
trailing inside
like secrets.
I didn’t mean
to bring the outside in,
but they hitchhike
on rubber treads,
on the hush of my leaving.
Now they scatter
across tile and rug,
bright bits of ruin
that refuse to stay buried.
They mark where I’ve been—
not loudly,
just enough.
A quiet bloom
in the hallway,
a whisper of red
by the door.
Nothing dies,
it just follows.

The callouses on my palms
speak of daily labor,
the weight of tools and hours stretching long,
hands that ache but keep moving,
gripping, pulling, lifting—
muscles sore, skin raw,
yet there is something simple in the rhythm
of this work,
a quiet certainty in the bending of wood
or the turning of a *****.
But inside,
the mind churns—
thoughts collide like a thousand hammers,
clanging against each other in the silence.
I cannot hold them,
cannot grasp or shape them
the way I do with my hands.
Each thought is a jagged piece
that shifts just when I think I have it.
The struggle in my hands is known,
familiar, tangible.
The struggle in my mind is endless,
slipping through my fingers like water,
pulling at me with no end in sight,
a puzzle with no solution
that I’ve learned to carry
but never set down.
When I walk away from the work,
my hands are sore but satisfied.
I can see what I’ve built,
what I’ve touched,
the progress of my labor marked in the world around me.
But the mind—
it never stops,
never rests.
The weight of its questions
hangs in the air like smoke
and I breathe them in
again and again,
wondering
if I'll ever be free
from the things I cannot fix
with my hands.

I stand before the mirror,
and I know the face.
Calm, composed,
eyes carrying only what they’ve lived,
no more.
But behind it,
the glass keeps going—
reflections trailing into the dark,
a long corridor
of me becoming
me becoming
me.
At first,
they follow faithfully.
A lifted hand.
A turning head.
Perfect mimicry,
clean as water mirroring sky.
But the further they go,
the more they soften—
not all at once,
not enough to alarm.
A hesitation.
A fraction too long between blinks.
A smile that holds
for a moment after I’ve let go.
The next face seems
just slightly dimmer—
as if the light can’t quite reach it,
or it doesn’t want to be seen
too clearly.
The eyes are the same,
but they don’t land on mine
so easily.
They graze past me,
settle somewhere just beyond.
And further still,
the faces forget their place.
One tilts before I do.
One breathes when I don’t.
Some begin to still altogether—
perfectly motionless,
like portraits
remembering how to be alive.
The change is never sharp.
It is a slow turning of a wheel
beneath still water,
a quiet drift
in a long dream.
Each face is mine,
but less so.
Each carries something in the eyes
I haven’t earned yet—
or never will.
Deeper down the glass,
the faces seem older
not in years
but in silence.
They wear composure
too tightly,
like masks that forgot
how to come off.
And at the furthest depth—
so far the glass hums with distance—
one face no longer mimics at all.
It only watches,
calm,
unmoving,
as if it has been here
far longer
than I have been looking.
And I don’t know
if it waits for me
to catch up,
or
to leave.

The waves come,
slow at first —
a soft hiss against my ankles,
salt threading through the cracks of my skin.
I stand there,
breath shallow,
the tide licking at the edges of my bones.
But it doesn’t stay soft.
The water rises,
crashing hard against my chest,
a cold weight driving into muscle and marrow.
It pulls —
dragging sand from beneath my feet,
stealing fragments of ground
until I’m sinking inch by inch
into the hollow it leaves behind.
I try to stand tall,
shoulders squared against the surge,
but the waves don’t stop.
They break harder,
white foam tearing through breath,
the sharp bite of salt in my throat
burning as I gasp for air.
The undertow pulls.
The current sinks teeth into my calves,
dragging me toward the dark depths,
and I know —
there is no fighting this.
No shore to reach for,
no hand to pull me free.
So I stay.
I let it crash.
Let the salt carve new lines into my skin,
let the water smooth me down
until I’m nothing but raw stone and sea glass
gleaming beneath a broken sky.
I know I am smaller now —
shaped by the ebb and swell,
etched thin by salt and time —
but I am still standing.
Even as the tide returns,
even as the waves rise again,
I remain.

They do not whisper.
They arrive with sound—
a cataclysmic brass section in the cathedral of my skull,
blaring without rhythm, without reason.
Intrusive thoughts:
not guests, but invaders
storming through synapses with muddy boots
and fire on their tongues.
They don't knock.
They kick the door in,
screaming absurdities and doomsday sermons,
blaring guilt like sirens in the dark.
"What if you said it wrong?"
"What if you’re not enough?"
"What if everything you love slips through your fingers?"
These thoughts crack like thunder
as I’m walking through the silence—
each step meant to be peace,
each breath a prayer for stillness,
shattered in a flash of noise and fear.
Their horns shatter more than quiet.
Even in calm moments—especially in calm moments—
they raise their instruments to their cracked lips
and unleash noise
like the sky splitting open.
I flinch.
I brace.
I try to drown them with breath,
with mantras,
with the soft rhythm of reality.
But still they play.
Relentless.
Discordant.
Majestic in their cruelty.
And yet—
somewhere beneath the chaos,
a single, trembling note of defiance holds:
not all noise is truth.
Not every trumpet speaks prophecy.
I let them play.
Let them blare and blast and rage.
And then I move anyway,
into the next moment—
not unshaken,
but still standing.

The silence is not empty.
It hums, it swells, it presses against my skin
until I can hear nothing else.
No voices, no distant echoes—
just the weight of quiet,
thick as fog, heavy as stone.
And in the spaces where sound should be,
my thoughts emerge.
They slip from the shadows,
formless at first, but then—hands,
grasping, pulling, clawing their way into me.
They whisper truths I do not want to hear.
They twist memories into specters,
turning my past into a noose,
tightening with every breath.
I try to hold on, to keep my grip,
but they are relentless.
Sometimes, they rip me away,
tearing at the fragile threads
of the life I’ve fought to keep together.
I watch it unravel in slow motion,
each strand slipping through my fingers
as I am pulled deeper,
farther,
away.
No one sees the battle.
No one hears the struggle.
To them, I am quiet.
To them, I am whole.
But inside, the silence roars,
and the shadows hold me close,
waiting for the next moment
to take me again.

I walk, but I do not move.
The floor is solid, unyielding,
cold concrete pressing against my bare soles.
I do not remember when I began,
only that I cannot stop.
Above, a ceiling I have never seen
hanging like a sky too weary to hold itself up.
A sky of heaving darkness. Thick as tar.
Clouds so thick they devour the light,
so heavy they press against my thoughts,
shaping them into something I cannot hold.
The silence here is a living thing.
It slithers through the cracks of my mind,
settling into the spaces where hope once bloomed.
No whispers, no voices—
only the sound of my own footsteps,
dull, lifeless,
never echoing, never answering.
Pillars rise from the concrete.
Monolithic, ancient,
marble treaked with veins of shadow.
They stand like forgotten gods,
spaced far apart,
too vast to be real,
too distant to be touched.
And yet, they are nothing here.
Swallowed whole by the endless height,
dwarfed by the great and hungry dark.
They reach upward,
but they will never find the top,
just as I may never find a way out.
I call out, but the walls refuse to answer.
Are there walls?
Or is this an endless void,
a cage without edges,
a prison without a door?
I keep walking,
circling the same unseen pain,
dragging my thoughts like chains
across a floor that does not care.
And somewhere, in the thick of the silence,
something watches—
or maybe, nothing does.
And maybe that is worse.

The Leviathan is long gone,
Its colossal form swallowed by the sea,
A shadow in the abyss that even the depths cannot contain.
Its scales, once glimmering like moonlit armor,
Now slide against the walls of time,
Their echo reverberating in forgotten halls,
Where memory lingers
Like dust in the corners of an old room.
The air still trembles
With the ancient hum of its presence—
A song of weight and gravity,
Of something vast and untouchable,
A pulse beneath the skin of the earth.
Beneath the surface, the walls remember:
How the Leviathan carved its path through the dark,
How its breath made the waters part like curtains,
How its voice, low and rumbling,
Shook the stars from their quiet homes.
And though the creature is gone,
Its scale-streaks remain.
They sing in the wind,
Whisper in the waves,
Speak in the silence between each breath—
A haunting reminder of what was,
Of what still slips through the cracks of the world,
Echoing into the bones of all who listen.

Bring me all of your Pain
Your Fears
And your Confusion.

I will be with you at every step.

I remember taking us out to dinner
Back Summer time.
You thought it was the last dinner
We would have together.

You thought it was the last time
You would be seeing me.
I remember you digging your nails
Into your skin at the dinner table.

You dug your nails so you could keep yourself
From crying.
I gently guided my fingers under your hand
And stopped what you were doing to yourself.

You didn't resist.
Just prayed the tears wouldn't spill.
I coaxed your nails away.
Such impressions left in your thigh.

I did my best to assure you everything would be okay.
The pain in your eyes, I'll never forget.....
A guilt I still carry.
Try as you might, tears still ran down your cheeks.



Fast forward to Winter...
I was digging a blade
Into my skin.

I dug a serrated edge into my arm
Sitting in my driver seat.
Just prayed the tears wouldn't spill.

The panic attack was the worst one
I found myself gasping hysterically through
The past seven weeks.

As my skin broke, and bled
I could finally **** in
A deep burning pull of breath.

My world hasn't been the same
Since you cut me out of your life.
Since you detached.

I could finally see the road as I drove to safety.
Tears stinging down my sullen face.
...It's been a long time since Teeth and Talons have left their mark.

Reservation had me firmly seated.
Curiosity got me leaning forward.
Discovery took hold of my hand.
Enthusiasm rang in my ears.
Excitement and Joy had me laughing.
Nerves sent ripples across my body.
Jitters and Eagerness held me as lips locked.
Elation shortly follows as a sincere smile is recognized..
Adventure sits in the seat next to me as I drive home..
.. Confusion turns out all the lights...
Silence keeps me lost.. for days..
Worry leaves a chill I can't shake.
Anxiety wraps its hands around my throat.
Depression floods my lungs.
Eventually.... Anger erupts.

The hardest dose of
You don't know
What you have
Till it's gone

It couldn't be
Anymore
Painful
To swallow

No, I don't think
It was selfish of you
At all.

You were just
Following your heart.
While I was denying mine.

I wish I had fought for you
As hard as you
Fought for me..

You've been appearing in my dreams.
It's the only time I get to see you now.
I remember the last few times
We were together you were hesitant.

Hesitant and anxious
To hold my hand.
Thinking
I would pull away.

In my dreams, it's you
Who pulls away.
I manage to hold your hand
After a gentle effort

Such grace you carry yourself
I'm enthralled...

But I fall apart in your arms.
I can't keep myself together.
Last I remember
We were in each other's embrace.

You took your time calming me
While I was collapsing in your hands.

I wake up
To the heavy and pounding
Beat of my heart.
The silence in the room is too much.

I turn and reach for you.
Wanting to pull you closer
Keeping us together.
But you're no longer here.

It's just me now in this cold and silent room.
Oh, what I would give to wake up
In the middle of the night
With you sleeping soundly against my chest.

My alarm won't be going off
For a few more hours.
And I won't be getting anymore sleep Tonight.

You told me once
How you tried your hardest
Not to fall in love with me.

You found out
It was the easiest thing
You've ever done.

Loving myself
Well...
....that's the hardest thing I've ever done.

I've been bruised all over.

Had my shoulder torn out of place

Ribs cracked from a solid blow.

My brow split open. Didn't even notice it.

Found myself out-numbered once, and stood my ground.

I've come across pain plenty, but I have rarely felt hurt.

Hurt doesn't come in the form of conflict.

It comes in through words.

Words are what hurt.

I've fallen to my knees because of words.

I have felt my whole world sink from the sheer weight of what's been said or what has been left in writing.

Words have left me in tears.

Words have left me gasping for air...

Words can leave their own scars if they cut deep enough.

....So does Silence..

The end of a Chapter.
One which you wrote the last page of.
Every word of it
Cut so deep.
No shred of malice.
No, just the truth.
All of it.
Truths I already knew. And some
Kept out of sight for far too long.
I finished reading
Felt my world tremble
And sobbed heavily in the arms of a close friend.
Lost my voice by the end of the night.
I lost considerably more than that
By the end of this Chapter.

Those ****** Teeth and Talons
Always present
Constantly digging deeper into my skin.
Snagging on bone
I knew what it would mean
Dragging this part of me
Out into the sunlight.
My arms, chest, neck, and face
Are all carved into by the piece of me
That wants to stay behind the tall grass and shadows.
It's hard to see with all the blood getting in my eyes.
This writhing mass slipping out of my crimson stained hands.
But I keep a steadfast grip.
I wasn't prepared for it to hurt this much.
I wasn't prepared for it to hurt those I loved either.
My hands are exhausted.
My breathing is labored.
Bloodstained tears running down my face and chest.
It's hard to remain standing. It would be so much easier to collapse.
-
Suddenly it doesn't hurt to breathe
The wounds remain but the pain isn't there.
I don't feel so tired.
I don't feel as if I'm fighting myself anymore.
I'm starting to see what others see in me.
-
Again I wasn't prepared
For my pain to hurt those that I love.
With no more blood in my eyes
I look to see that someone I truly loved, who truly loved me,
Has left.
Hurt by what she had to do to save herself.
I couldn't hear anything, and I didn't feel it at first.
But I look down to see that awful and familiar mass of black had impaled me.
This was a different kind of pain.
Something I've never felt before.
Something I've never heard before either.
It was me crying over the woman
That was there for me
Every step of the way.
Fighting tooth and nail,
many times with me,
Who is now no longer
In my life.

The songs from years ago
That used to pull
So ******* my heart strings..

The same ones that left me
Gasping for air thinking about you
And what could have been......

The same beautifully sad songs that left
So many holes
In my chest......

Are nothing more than beautifully sad songs.
I no longer feel my world
Collapsing in on itself anymore.

I've learned never to give my heart away
So easily.

I don't really know
If I ever will again.

Love is nothing more
Than a myth to me.

So is Happiness...

I say this not with joy,
Nor satifaction.

My tears are no longer worth spilling
For anybody else.

I gave everything to someone I truly loved.
That I believed in a future with.

A woman that I thought was perfect for me.
I felt I lost everything when I lost her..

I'm much too scared to reach out to her.
Scared anything I say

Will only be used
To cut me down.

The most important lesson I can think of presently
Is to never let anyone that close again..
Even if you believe they are your future..

They have such ease
At showing you how foolish you are.

They can show you how much
You don't know about yourself..
And finally,

How little you can even trust yourself.
Those **** Teeth and Talons, ever present,
Remain deeply anchored into my skin.

I wish you could see how beautiful your life really is.
How your smile brings forth
Such light, and promise.

But you cannot see what's right in front of you
Because you won't look up..
I saw it. The moment I met you.

I wish I could see how wonderful my life could be....

I can't see anything.
Because no such wonder exists
In my forgetful, unremarkable
World.

Dark clouds overhead on this warm summer evening
Makes the green on the trees bold and heavy.
The contrast of the pale yellow skies make the clouds almost black and seething.

A slowly approaching monolith with its tendrils uncoiling. Silently.
Reaching out.

Those Teeth and Talons buried deep into me
Whatever they belong to has itself planted to the ground.
Almost anticipating the coming storms.
Seems whatever is holding onto me
Is ready to weather what comes my way.

Despite what I've known about them this whole time.. maybe it's here for me.
Am I crazy to think this?

Whatever storm comes into view
Surely they can't tear me away.

I can feel a wind pick up.
The air getting cooler.
And the hair on my neck stands up on end.
A deep slow rumble breaks the silence.

They're not sinking in,
But they are holding fast..
Those **** Teeth and Talons



.....Bring on the deluge..

Do you remember the first night I sang to you?
When you first laced your fingers with mine?
..Our first kiss?
Do you remember when I knocked on your door with flowers?
Do you remember the first time I handed you a black envelope with a poem written for your eyes only?
The first time waking up with your head on my chest?

I remember... oh so vividly..

How many times
Will I let my heart crack and break
For you?

As many times
As it takes
For you to see you are worth breaking for.

I didn't think I could hurt anymore
Then I finally ran into you

You brought meaning into my life.
You gave me a reason to want to rush out of bed when I awoke.

All of the troubles that held me back
****** off.

My pulse came back
My smile returned.

Friends could see I was actually smiling.
The sun couldn't even radiate the warmth I possessed.

Then you walked away..
And I found myself struck with this all too familiar pain again.

Humble..
That's what I hear.
Honest..
That's what I believe..
Sad
That's all I feel.
...Silence..
That's all I receive.

Teeth.... and talons..
They sink deep

Not the first time.
Just deeper than before.

Across my skin
Ever present

I bled only the first time
Only scars remain.

Tears don't break anymore
Not as often

But when they do..
..Oh, how hard do they break...

Another Fall fast approaching
Time hasn't slowed down
..Spring was such a blur..

It won't be just the leaves turning
         And falling this year.
I don't know if my heart can fall
                              Any further than it has.

Broken and bruised
Laying in pieces on the ground.
.....I think I'll just leave it there this time...

I still think about you,
And haven't stopped
Missing you.

I know you're still weathering your storms.
Soon enough
Those clouds will pass.

I've learned enough to know
You've overcome such dark
And heavy clouds before.

As much as I wholeheartedly
Would love to see a relationship
Blossom between us..
I understand that may very well not be in the future.

Simply put, I don't want to see a future
Where you are not in it.
Even if that blossoming only goes as far
As a gentle friendship..

I am not the forgiving type.

You expect, after so many years,
You'd receive an open hand.

Don't ever suppose for
That day to crawl forward.

You were cut out of my life
Much like a malignant tumor.

..Motionlessly reduced to a phantom limb..
One that should have stopped moving long ago.

I needn't remind you
How much of a friend you were..

..to me..

This time the pages just came to life..
A story I didn't think possible...

Heart fluttering
With every page turned.

Hard to believe..
This was really happening...

Waking up to the rhythmic beating
Of a happy heart

Every morning
I was looking forward to reading what comes next.

---------------

...Words began to fade out once again....
...Pages... start to tear.. once again...

Another book on the shelf.
Another story without an ending

I remember the last few words cutting me so deeply.

Dreamt I went back in time and found you.
Found you standing just outside the courtyard of school.
I walked up wondering how you would take me.
To my surprise it almost seemed as if you were expecting somebody.
Your smile was big and radiant.
You didn't know who I was, yet you were delighted to see me.
I told you that you may have just met me,
but in another time we actually know each other very well.
Not a trace of concern or suspicion could I find in your eyes.
...You must have known I was coming..
The sun was shining bright.
And your laughter was intoxicating. Even in my dream.
The feeling was fleeting..
For the morning light nudged me out of slumber.

If we must suffer
Why not choose how we suffer?

I knew as soon as my emotions
Began stirring
Talking to you
What was bound to happen

This is how I choose to suffer.

It will hurt, yes.
But wounds heal.
With what fleeting time I have with you
If suffering is the cost... where do I sign?

Never before could I open up
To someone I immediately gravitated towards.
With you all those troubles, worries, and anxieties
They don't have such a hold over me anymore.

Again, this is how I choose to suffer..

What I think is special
When we say our goodbyes
We will part with much less Emptiness inside
Than when we first met.

Life is suffering.


...And I will suffer well..

I never got to tell you
I did in fact pick a star out
For you...
I took my time, and found a real gem.

I told you mine was Sirius.
You said you never picked your own star.
Even though I said the next time we saw each other
I'd have one picked out, I never told you what it was.

I wanted to wait till Spring
When we could actually see it
And I could point it right out to you
And say, "That one's yours."

I was really starting to like you.
And I can only imagine that that was why
You stopped talking.
Because I readily gave too much.

I'm not mad.
Just terribly hurt.
Just like with every other girl
I shared myself with.

Antares...
Your star was going to be Antares.
The heart of the Scorpion.
I'll save it for someone who's worth giving my heart to.

Even in the face of all your laudations
Almost tear inducing words
It will be so terrible when you find out
What happens next..

Such praise surely would
Have tempted this man from walking off.
At least everyone in their right mind
Would have concurred.

... But that is just not so in the mind
Of someone so bull headed.
So rigid in thought.
So unyeilding in person.

Like any branch
It will let out such
An unnerving snap
When the stress proves too much.

And no one will be ready for it.

You've made so many enemies
With so many wolves.

All because you chose
To shun one of them away.

They don't even know your name,
But they bare their teeth all the same...

Seemed as if we were both reading the same book.
I knew one of us would outpace the other.
..Most likely it would be me.
I guess I am too eager to see what unfolds on the next few pages.

But for whatever reason, and with no warning, you put your book down.
The rest of the pages in my book become empty.
Flipping back and forth doesn't help.
As soon as the pages start to tear I realize I have to put mine down now.

This isn't the first story I've found where the words just disappear.
No happy ending.
No ending at all..
Just another unfinished adventure...

It's difficult for me
To keep my emotions
From running off,
And to keep my troubles
From catching up
When someone like you
Shows up.

You came into view
And I couldn't hold back the tears.
I embraced you with everything I had.

There wouldn't be much time if any.
I knew I was dreaming,
And I desperately wished I wouldn't wake up.

My sobbing turned to tremors.
And yet you were calm.
At peace.

Felt like you knew I needed to see you again.
To tell me it was okay you were not here anymore.
The tears still burn my face as I write this all down.

It's so pleasing to have your breath
Just taken away
When you think that could never happen
Again.

It wasn't obvious in the beginning.
Her face gingerly held in my hand
Lips so pleasantly inviting
...And she didn't stop kissing.....

What a rush..
When I realized I needed
To take a breath.
The euphoria.. wasn't prepared for that.

The kisses kept coming
So sweetly and softly.
...And with a teasing bite of my lip she concluded,
"Now go home."

She must have known not to spoil me
Anymore and I would have had trouble leaving.
Barely-there ripples danced across my skin.
With one more gentle kiss and a quiet smile I had bid her goodnight.

Without a Queen
What is a crown
To a King?

"Just another storm outside," she sighed.
The windows quietly rattle
From the distant thunder,
And the panes softly reflect
The obscure taps of raindrops.

The storm is of no importance.
Relaxed, she continues writing
Engrossed in the life
The storm would not shake..
..Nor could it tempt her back..

Her thunder was more marvelous than this storm could ever invoke.

My skin is hard and weathered
As is the asphalt that lays bare
And bleached by the sun's rays.

Your words are the childish chalk
Scribbled across and littering the road
Right in front of our home

And your treason is the hushed rumble
Of chilled autumn rain washing your despairing apologies
Down the gutter at the end of the street

A bird
Without it's wings..

Such a tragedy.

Sometimes..

It's best to say nothing,
Do nothing,
And pay attention.

Some convictions connot
Soley be served through
Mere words alone.

Again, pay attention
To what isn't being said.
Sometimes.. the silence tells you everything.

Such a shame when a bird
Has yet to spread it's wings

Spent it's whole life
Perched on an outreached branch

Every attempt at flight
Means another climb back up the tree.

Eventually the bird will leave it's perch
But not by flight.

You think flicking your hand
In my direction will somehow
Make me feel Less Than...

I was conceived in a forgotten memoury..
Delivered from the suspended corpse of Nature.
Mother and child both hanging from a noose.

I have been gasping for breath
Clawing at isolation
And you think your lack of words could make me tumble to my knees?

Flick your hand again
Watch it disappear into the void
The void I radiate.

Your sense of self worth is grossly inflated..