Where Shadows Have Teeth

In the rift between throats exposed and gnarling teeth,
Between a trembling hand and the ashen skin of the stillborn,
In a nest of rot and mold and crumbling matter,
I reside where dreams come to die,
Come where shadows have teeth,
And no wounds are healing,
Come where there is no peace,
Here we are always bleeding,
Chasms and cavities
Sharp blades and bitter weight,
Sustains this shell
This monument to everything vile and ugly and dead,
Come where sorrow and fear has hold,
No light transgressing,
Come where the air is stale and black,
Learn how to breathe it.
Grave processions through room after room after room,
Through nuances of black in a pitch black hole,
It's inside these walls.
It sticks to the floor and it pulls you down.
It's filthy rags over mouth and nose and hands around your throat,
It's inside me and with the strength of trees winding their roots deep into the ground,
It's connecting to a place within you.
Come where shadows have teeth,
Come where there is no peace,
Come where sorrow and fear has hold,
No light transgressing,
Come where the air is stale and black,
And learn how to breathe it.