Wednesday 5/27/2015 11:32:00 PM

the pursuit yawns. the journey gulps. the path is lost. her template scolds. a cautious array of decisions. broken into their various shapes by circumstance. an eager mosaic of skin. fractured, yet cohesive.

the road threatens. thirsty with distance. gravity dispenses its intoxicating panic. the journey comes in doses. a sweet medicine laced with sickness.

the road is mostly dead things and uncontrolled intersections.

everything slows as her speed increases. sharp turns in the dichotomy of knowing. how fast. how far. never both. 

Uncertainty a blind god with its eyes wide open.

Saturday 5/23/2015 11:32:00 PM

conditions of when. the shivering compromise. all things paused. the oblivion of teh moment overtaking. pale monsters in their naked bones. voices like neelde and thread. fists like kites. we own nothing. are not owned by. dispossessed. strangers in our own portraits. thieves in razors and crayons.

the crippled dominion that is if. feathers and ink in a tsunami of skin. everything shtattered except how. cruel parallels pretending we are.

all missing buttons and broken zippers at the mouth of the abyss.

no gravity. just arrogance. as the edge diminishes.

a poverty of when. in the perpetuity of if. seldom soldiers in a war of uncertainty. a plague of touch. an epidemic of skin.

the narrow fruit. the lowest branches.

Wednesday 5/20/2015 11:29:00 PM

Bridges. A chessboard of blood and bone. Smirking at the apocalypse. At a universe of paper kingdoms. Perforated by the stale legacy of pleasure.

The pace is numb. The distance is mute. The road yawns. Swallows us. Spits us out in another world.

The water listens. The wind resolves. Artificial gods paint their portraits in the grass.

It's too close. It's much too large. Lost in the relativity. Moments become miles.

Wearing her journey in evolution and in combat. wild horses and sharp corners. the practicality of contrition like worms expelled from the soil.

the blank. the spoils of solitude. unbending protagonists in sweating sobriety.

the years like a predator. the journey like a rope. still she remains. loyal to the treason of the hope.

Sunday 5/17/2015 11:11:00 PM

the infinite chase. it blossoms and sours so abruptly. the foul in the air as the future folds. all paper and wrinkles. as empty as it began. the world. a cacophony of strangers. as the bridge collapses.

a smile of clouds. and a grin of rain.

moments. arid and indifferent. the soul is a desert. the flesh is an ocean. we are always lost. even when we know where we are going.

even in the brightest burst of summer. there is always the scratch of winter. scraping bone. 

every moment. a lazy time machine. content to leave us stranded. quiet children in dirty clothes and spoiled epiphanies.

flesh like crude arithmetic against the intricate algorithms of the skeleton.

guided softly by the council of distance.

she measures her choices. each one narrower than the one before. she names her ghosts.  convinced of the math in their stones. heavier still as each day passes.

Gravity doesn't know. Cannot understand. The sensation of falling.

Tuesday 5/12/2015 12:13:00 AM

obvious thieves drew their bullets in colored pencils. taking the distance in wet thumbprints and torn resolve.

the deficit flirts with the ratio. the turn loosens its grip.

gravity composes skin. in nervous quatrains and arrogant fictions. it stumbles and collapses. a stubborn chemistry of conditions. scrapbook heroes drowning in chewed candy and dried blood. 

a fever of tomorrows. an impossible circumference. the choking road. the swallowing distance.

everywhere to be. nowhere to go.

like falling without gravity.

we suffer through the whims of perspective. always trying to measure. mistakenly assuming distance is a factor in the cartography of flesh.

a thousand lovers might be a minute. a single touch could be a lifetime.

time is small and arrogant. like we are.

the road is narrow. the curves are sharp.

Monday 5/04/2015 11:58:00 PM

lazy stick figures drowning in the thunder of their want. the downhill. like some perfect sickness. doling out the world in bite size portions.

the obvious monsters fell silent. all modular stars and jumper cable orthodox. the stubborn winter learned her name too late. another balloon headed for the sun.

plastic kingdoms grew from her palms like iron and chocolate. sweet and rusty and vaguely nostalgic.

slow storms capitulating the warmth. errant soldiers in a war of little resolve.

the solvent autonomies of touch and its many wants. negotiating the perpetuity of cause. we linger for a time.

but like water. its only instinct is to drown.

divergent kingdoms joined by a wick. divided by the flame.

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