Didn’t raise my voice raised your ribs. Cracked 'em sharp while the crowd went stiff. Tongue stayed dry. Grip stayed set. You made a scene I claimed a debt. Spoke in lines you didn’t earn. I pulled the stitch through every burn. Feathers don’t scare jaguar kin. You froze up I flayed the skin. Didn’t just split I kept what kicked. Folded joints and burned what twitched. Your spine? Mine now. Your teeth? Filed down. Lungs hung high like meat to dry. Lit ‘em slow watched you cry. Took your hands, chalk for the gate. Took your nails, marked the date. You gave grief? I cracked it flat. Wore your howl like a hunter’s trap. Call it cruel I call it clean. (clean) Call it death I call it seen. (seen) Call it wrath I call it owed. (owed) Call it curse I call it home. (home) Burned your name in spit and ash. Pinned it down, let watchers laugh. Cut your thread from warrior cloth. Hung your lungs like flags gone off. Kept your tongue to etch the pact. Crushed your oath beneath impact. No wing will come. No gods, no creed. Just names in ash. Just flesh "Left to bleed" I dragged your saga through wet clay. Let the glyphs dry wrong then burned the page. Your axe? A rattle. Your shield? A plate. I fed both into flame where obsidian waits. Your tree of worlds we felled for root. Made pigment from it. Painted truth. No raven called. No hall replied. Your thread unspooled and I tongued the dye. No Valkyries come. No wings. No sky. No Valkyries come. No hall. No cry Xibalba waits. Xibalba waits. Xibalba waits— for you.
