This is not poetry for the polite.Eldest Howl is a descent into hunger, control, devotion, and the sacred violence of being known. Each piece strips something away, leaving behind bone, breath, and the quiet truth of what we become when no one is watching.There is no attempt to soften the edges. No interest in being palatable.This collection lingers in power exchange, in identity, in the tension between reverence and ruin. It treats longing as ritual and desire as something with weight, consequence, and consequence again.If you are looking for comfort, this is not your book.If you are looking to feel seen in the parts of yourself you rarely name, step closer.
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