Sunday 1/14/2018 11:45:00 PM

it's nothing now. the yellow panic that wears our bones.

the trembling ladder in our empty gardens. where despite all we give it nothing grows.

the hours tell. in gentle stabs. all the beautiful stories that broke and bruised.

the tender meat kept under our clothes. the corners wagered in screams and shouts. what we want against what we have.

touch too heavy. slowing us down. choices so loud. we couldn't hear anything else.

the monsters know us. they're always listening.

the path cuts. with a dull blade. the bridge bleeds. all the ugly choices flesh articulates.

the years whisper. the body's underlying treason.

our hunger the only constant. as we discard our remaining poisons and surrender to the cold.

Monday 1/08/2018 01:34:00 AM

how cold it gets is relative. to how warm it's been. eyes like ladders. skin like stone. all the empty analogs of time and circumstance. asking their questions in sobs and limps.

the barren tree. the fierce wind. each is a small marker in a vast ocean.

the clock accuses. the hours confess. time is a cage. we forge our keys from scraps of skin and feats of panic.

the miles consume us. scraps of meat spoiling in hunger's din.

the winter chews. seldom swallows. the foul of mercy's impotence.

the road grows narrow. the skin loses count. as our bruises multiply. and our crutches fail.

it's dark. but we can see. as the blood overwhelms our remaining bandages.

Tuesday 1/02/2018 11:31:00 PM

the ice was soft as we took our first steps. it was cold. just not cold enough.

the road stuttered. unable to reconcile our distance. the years a long series of small cuts. producing very little blood. yet revealing so much.

the choke of the day. as it whispers from deep below the frost. about the nature of grief. and the severity of want.

the frozen surface of everything belying the frailty in each step.

time limping toward us. both hero and villain. neither alive nor dead. as its hungry zipper bites at our exposed skin.

the colors soft. the choices loud. as we sell our bridges. to finance our drowning.

Wednesday 12/27/2017 11:47:00 PM

how close we were. languishing in our wormholes. laughing at time from the other side of a broken window.

the distance stole our breath. the frost took our hope. the economics of intimacy called our bluff.

there were many intersections. there was nowhere to go.

you can't ask for directions. you can't read the map. when you're out there alone. it's just the asphalt as candy. and the miles relentless. though i've stopped counting. the distance does not.

it's the end of the world.. in toothpicks and sober. it's the weather. braiding all those empty skins. it's the moment. swallowing itself whole.

we tell ourselves it could never be this cold. but we don't believe it.

Sunday 12/24/2017 11:50:00 PM

i was soft. fallen snow. empty boxes. the distance stuttered. more pragmatist than hero.

there were voices. filtering in from outside the walls. the shaky conundrum of circumstance tying knots in our thread.

we kept the day. in an analog of blood. the hours like gauze. thin and stiffening.

places to go. tomorrow's treason abrupt and lingering. all poisoned cats and uncertainty principles. the lengthy extremities of want negotiating context. as we thumb through random chapters of touch. peddling our stories. carcasses flirting with buzzards.

the corner hit. and direction swallowed us. destination choked. leaving us stranded.

Monday 12/18/2017 12:26:00 AM

the window was open. though the wind did not come inside. the apogee of bone to blood. a deceptive orbit.

voices collapsing. like folding paper. icicles melting on the edge of zero.

we tried it on, but the suicide was too small.

steps to when. the pace of fractions. louder than it used to be.

the stones at our feet. in the simmer of darkness.
betrayed by our bodies. the stern biology of reason. weakened by a  rupture of choices.

the beginning is constant. everything else is clay. time stumbles. barefoot. over life's broken glass.we ignore the blood.

borrowing each hour. spending each other. the savage economics of flesh.  makes us all paupers.

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