A bowl of broken teeth on cracked wood,
a coat patched from silence stitched by cold hands.
Rain claws the windowpanes with brittle nails.
No dinner waits here
only the slow snap of old bones.

Mold creeps beneath tattered shoes.
Rust bursts through splintered floorboards.
The fridge moans like a priest lost in prayer.

Time crouches low in the corner,
threading needles through a torn shirt.
Outside, dogs gnaw echoes to dust.
The sky holds its breath and lingers open.