words unsaid - lumps of raked up thoughts choked forever in his numb throat words cooked up, for fine occasions, or for somber days; words never uttered for want of admiration; for the fear of admonition; words stacked safely in his head spilling into his now quiet larynx; wanting to get out - without the Maker's will! words, gathering dust, cobwebs and husk - words laid to rest to rust in his bloody throat; put to waste to wither far away beyond his forgotten existence.
the whelp howled - into night's nascent drips; insonant lunar craters trembled, as he climbed the windy stairs in blind joy! his tongue whipped beads of his being into the night's cold! denizens of the sky pranced around,
cackling and cooing - calling him out, to journey long and hard! euphoria consumed his soul - as his neck laid torn in his predator's jaws; and in moon's witness, joy tore his heart apart - as he scaled the ascendant's pass!
he rested his knuckles on his chin - striking a solemn pose; his breath dampening the ridges of his worn bones through the passage of night; he stared into the tiny corner - where the walls of existence meet; hardened over years with seeping water, and his quest for answers; his stomach rumbling with doubts - doubts of the past, doubts of the foreseen, and that of the unseen! he gasped for breath - knowing not that he was choking his cells in a suffocating shell; he blinked, when a fly trespassed into his contemplation; he wiped his eyes, his eyes - dry of tears that were long spent, of existence that is wrung dry by his thoughts, fleeting and final!