biological noise

secrets from the edges

They told me to keep quiet, under the encroaching cobalt shadows of the attic alcove, where
faint whispers begged for sleep. Echoes of a groan, settled like old flights of dust,
tracing the paths behind windowpanes, neglected yet familiar.
Close the lid before someone else knows.

The rug beneath holds tales of wandering feet,
each fiber a scribe of transgressions,
weaving narratives tangled among their stitches,
ink and mist imprinted on knowledge kept secret.

The cracked cupboard oozes regret and wishing bone,
alluring and tyrannical in its sleep. Its handle
anointed in betrayals and the occasional loving touch.
Another language, murmured curses; like thick sieves,
they sift moments unseized in time's delicate grasp.

whispered-end gaze
lurking utterings

Dissection by daylight sundered layer from surreal fragility,
"Can't you see us pleading, edges like cracked porcelain lips?"
Subsoil marks, where lives have vibrated their imprints,
are guarded by curtains folded into folds—
stitched breaches like guardians of a silent transmigration.