To the Ornament that Devours

💀 TCDJ™ Interim Addendum

“The crown was never decorative — it was hungry.”

— Marginalia, Culling Notes

You wear it like triumph,
fangs polished into filigree,
gold hammered from marrow.

It doesn’t sit on you.
It roots into you.
Claws tucked behind every shine,
the way wolves tuck hunger behind fur.

The watcher circles, patient,
its gaze an old hound’s breath at your neck.
It doesn’t bite.
It waits.

You thought it was an heirloom.
It was a jaw.
You are still inside it.

[Addendum: At 00:17, restraint systems failed.]
Chain-links reported fractured,
howls recorded across three districts.
The ornament reclassified as pack —
all attack dogs at midnight,
muzzles slick,
reducing silence to torn marrow.

Recovered from kennel quarantine, jawbone lattice gnawed clean.

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