the world taught me its lesson with both hands around my throat
i swallowed the quiet like medicine
and found it tasted like the only good thing
now the door stays closed
and the wolves i once called company
howl somewhere else outside
the body begs for bread but my ears are now deaf
i have made a church of this silence
and i am its last saint
canonized by no one
decomposing beautifully
into the floor
—lyra moon (some sanctuaries are built from what remains)
march 5, 2026