In every stillness lies a whisper.
Gyrating bodies smoulder quicker
than the wick that sickly flickers
from the wind that will not kiss her.

In every kiss there is a silence,
ruled over by tapping tyrants
that exist within the quiet,
No one denies their raucous violence.

In every mind there is a fear,
slow to speak and hard to hear.
In every heart that safe appears,
there are veins that bleed soft tears

and through all the lonely years, I've found
nothing is as kind as it appears. I frown

as she whispers in her sleep, through dreams silent and severe.
Her heartbeat softly weeps, and her demon softly cheers.