broken nails trailing red ink,
jagged lonely
language dragged through
barren streets
where crimson horizons
bleed glass shards,
falling leaves
in concrete trees—
vultures, sentries
and I wonder if
it's only me
screaming to
breathe
then claws hiss against
stone, a scavenger
shifts forward,
then all—
feathers stretching
withering grays—
all their wings
cracked like dreams
