I want my words to be curls of smoke that linger a cold brush of icy fingers   I want my words to be bones clinking in the night claws scratching for a fight   I want my words to be a raven’s cry in the air a creak from an old stair   I want my words to be the depths of oceans deep the shadows in your sleep   I want my words to be the blood that boils the floods that roil   the heat of flames unspoken shames   shards of ice heavy price   a mark the dark