The Weight of the Bones

Under the pale moonlight, the skeleton doesn't rest; it dances to the relentless rhythm of fate. Each phalanx acts as a needle that sews the dimness to the ground, holding the living within its own carnal limit.

The skull, empty and smiling, does not represent forgetfulness but the resonance of cries hardened in hard metal.

The ribs function as inner cell bars, containing the ceased vital organ that continues to hold fear. Bone contact generates noise that is not audible, but the marrow of the observer.

That backbone, bent as a hard question, keeps rough record of all human stumbles. When you feel it, the dermis freezes, because bones do not form a frame, but rather the first tool against deception of existence. And in the midst of darkness, femur impacts surface with precise compass of final sentence.