Bony hands are pulling through the dirt Cracked jaws hanging loose and wrong Something dead that shouldn't move Is humming its forgotten song White teeth chattering in the cold Vertebrae that twist and bend They say they only want to talk (But conversations never end) Listen to them scrape the floor Finger bones on wooden doors They were people once like you Now they're something less, or more Calcium and marrow dust Shuffling through the autumn leaves Every joint a little question mark Every skull a mouth that breathes You can hear them in the walls Tapping out a rhythm slow Not quite music, not quite language Just a sound that shouldn't go They don't sleep and they don't tire Empty sockets never blink Reaching for you in the hallway Closer than you'd like to think Run until your lungs give out They'll be waiting at the end Grinning wide with nothing left These bones don't break, they only bend Turn around and face the door Something's knocking, letting in Hollow ribs and rattling hips The dead have come to dance again
