The footsteps fall — then fade away —
As silence holds — the breath at bay —
Two hands — in quiet longing — meet,
A tremble — soft — and hearts entreat.

A fever burns — and must be still,
The world outside — they wish to **** —
The rain — it whispers — soft refrain,
Of stories lost — of fear and pain.

The elders' words — like serpents' hiss,
A promise sweet — a bitter kiss —
"Trust me, dear one — for I will save,
Your love — your life — from cruelest grave."

She calms the storm within her mind,
With *****'s balm — a solace blind —
His face is strange — his heart a lie —
But still — she dreams — where no one dies.

The flowers twine — within her hair,
She plays with children unaware —
Of all the rules — the bitter game,
Where whispers wear a nameless shame.

The demons smile — they will not harm,
They cleanse with beads — with prayer's calm charm —
"Forget your name, and curse the night,
The dawn will lift you into light."

But Death — a shadow — cold and near,
Sweeps in — and leaves no room for fear —
The dust — the warmth — no more to chase,
A fleeting dream — an empty place.

It blew in off the sea

It went out on a limb

And broke the olive branch

Do you hear the wind through the hair of revolution

--black raven hair--

Bone straight and frayed

The split ends of society forging separate paths

Progression at their tips, regression in their roots

It makes a sound akin to the back of an old haunted house settling

It wandered here in due season

It's about to be cut short

It's about to be swept away

three days running
(body’s unraveling
the threads of itself
loose stitches yawning wide—)
but my mind
(my manic, my impossible mind)
spins
and spins
and
spins

the ceiling
a vast white ocean
of thoughts unswallowed
while gravity forgets me,
floating on this frantic tide of
(silence?) no,
the hum of all the hours
I should have slept.

oh how cruelly awake,
how absurdly alive,
to feel this lightbulb brain
(scorched, buzzing)
while my knees buckle under the weight
of their own existence.

there will be collapse.
(there will always be collapse.)
but for now,
this manic orchestra
plays on,
its violins tuned to the scream
of a body desperate for dark,
its brass blaring a melody
only the sleepless can hear.

What happened to you?—the Question hangs—
A specter on the Air—
There’s Something—gnawing at the Bones—
And Madness stirs in There—

A Sin—a Stain upon the Flesh—
No Cleansing can Repeal—
The Laughter of a Distant Hell—
Resounds—a Brazen Peal—

He struck—Repeatedly—a Thorn—
Against a Petaled Grace—
And claimed—the Fracture of her Soul—
Was not—a Man’s Disgrace—

"I feel—quite Fine"—the Monster said—
Before the Hunger came—
And ripped away—the Veil of God—
To stoke—an Ancient Flame—

She fled—a Wolf without her Cloak—
To Secrets—of the Trees—
While Echoes of his Jagged Cry—
Rose on the Timid Breeze—

No Answers—Waited on the Hill—
No Truth beneath the Stone—
But Evidence—of what Was Done—
Is Etched—in Flesh and Bone.