/each line corresponds to a line from the opposite end, moving inward/
They call it a feast.
Crowned mouths carve a throne.
They measure bodies with unblinking eyes.
Teeth learn the taste of skin.
Salted breath drips.
They season it with hunger.
They start with the younger.
Red smiles gather at their lips.
Knuckles grind under the chin.
What’s left is named mercy, written as lies.
Even the floor remembers bone.
We are left the least.
Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 10:58 AM UTC
/each line corresponds to a line from the opposite end, moving inward/
They call it a feast.
Crowned mouths carve a throne.
They measure bodies with unblinking eyes.
Teeth learn the taste of skin.
Salted breath drips.
They season it with hunger.
They start with the younger.
Red smiles gather at their lips.
Knuckles grind under the chin.
What’s left is named mercy, written as lies.
Even the floor remembers bone.
We are left the least.
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