Bones threaded with silence,
a weft of unseen tides,
drowned before the sky could murmur,
names twisted into half-light.

Empty calls carve through marrow,
a dissonance stitched in the flicker
of unspoken skies,
twisting where shadows breathe.

Flesh frays in the void of mouths
that never opened—
rusted hums too thin to grasp.

Skin unthreads,
and what remains burns in the air
like a scream that cannot form.

Dust to dust—
the thread severed
in half-thoughts,
too distant to bleed,
too numb to remember.

She says I'm an interesting soul
That gets my attention
Kyoto to Tokyo
New York City night

Tacos for lunch today
Soda lemonade
Salsa on my chips
Sor Juana's mystic flight

Quiet desperation
Lonely as the rain
In my solitude
Abgescheidenheit

Bare feet kissing marble’s chill,
fingertips tracing teak and dusk,
air thick as mulled velvet—
honeyed, heavy, slow.

She moves where silence frays,
light spills like sugared wine,
breath lingers like an unshed sigh—
never still, never caught.

Fluorescence hiccups across her skin,
pavement inhales her weight,
a flicker, a glitch, a sliver of absence—
half-held, half-gone.

She dances where gravity forgets,
shadows soften like overripe fruit,
laughter drips slow as melting wax—
feral, fleeting, free.

She is not waiting to be found—
she is, and that is enough.

I unspool the silence,
shed the smallness
in my head.

I take it all in,
let my voice swell—
and no longer ask
permission to exit the room.