564.

Illumination,
unearthed through the weight's blueprint
of heart's location.

563.

Falling snow calls forth
the hour before dawn in
a silent, slow death.

562.

Today seems built in
foreshadowing. Full of ghosts
hanging in corners.

561.

Moratoriums
and dissections, your heart grows
tired exploring.

560.

Other times, offer:
crack open my ribs and take
your empty echoes.

559.

Sometimes I want to
crawl inside your brain and eat
all that ties to me.

558.

That downturn of lips
begs nothing more than to be
bitten off and chewed.