In a house of cast-off souls, rust speaks in tongues of bone
Shelves groan under spines no longer burdened with memory
What wears no flesh but fetches the highest price?
What whispers secrets in the currency of marrow?

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What runs forever yet never flees?
What vanishes by becoming itself?
What reaches for you with fingers of loam
And sings lullabies in wormspeak?

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Who speaks in volts & last breaths?
Whose dialect is static & ash?
What seduces the living with syntax
Carved from lightning & final sighs?

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What sacred text festers in the light?
What sermon is preached by mold & fly?
Where is divinity found in decomposition?

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What leaves blue fingerprints on the road?
What watches without eyes & waits for the storm?
What does the sky carry
When it is heavy with unborn disasters?