Monday 7/25/2016 02:46:00 AM

anger's tallow blisters and spoils in the heat. the skin of villains and victims is the same. the garden is breached. the apple is bitten. the poison is released. it transforms us. we possess the end of the world in every breath.

the fire swells and ebbs. any escape from the cold is temptation. we may burn. we may be scorched. there is comfort in familiar pain.

distance has its frequent purchase on this flesh. we wander. we travel. in the troubling sober. finding our maps in eager scars and reluctant saviors.  the journey overtakes. and we become an element of the path. worn of random places. tattered crowns without a sovereign. often struck matches without a flame.

the lost whispers softly. ripe with potential. rancid with regret. the road greets her as a child. depeartss her a woman.

the narrower corners gather their secrets. the softer monsters discard their long gowns. it was always formal. we were always dancing. even when there was no music.

but now it's quiet again..

7/18/2016 10:53:00 PM

elements erupt in a fierce conundrum. the texture of skin. the friction of want. the dangerous arithmetic of their seduction. we don't pretend that it's over. it was so long ago dead. we embrace the corpse. humbled by the depth of the graves we've dug.

 the simple measures of tomorrow and then. swift vessels on a meandering ocean. we easily negotiate the distance, yet are overcome by the isolation.

hinges and locks. doorways of the oldest ilk. the scrape of flesh. the stiff of absense. all predators in their own rights.

lost is easy enough. twisting roads in the panic of the sun. chasing fragments of places. the edge of when as narrow as ever.

speculating on surrender. absolute angles on the fever of consent. the sober economy of manipulation. flower petals swimming in venom. lovers as narrow as the bridges that connect us.

Thursday 7/14/2016 01:14:00 AM

dancing light. stubborn skin. i die a little more with every kiss. we are pieces. broken pictures. travellers on gravity's fickle whims. the colors bold. the saviors timid.

 hurried paradise. grateful wounds. touch the only antiseptic against the stiffening void.

 the miles multiply and choke us. the hours divide and conquer. the darkness bursts open and moments are expelled like bullets.

we don't go far. memory simply exaggerates the distance. it's time that spends us. like the pocket change we are. the maps have their creases. the paths have their rips. we run in every direction. disoriented by grief's vibrant prism. drowning in colors as the grey slowly wears off.

 the places take us. our open wounds and permanent scars. softly wear the rusted armor. we reason with edge. trembling with the logic of one too many intersections. we embrace the chaos as it welcomes our curious panic. still searching for the entrance to places that no longer exist.

Sunday 7/10/2016 02:32:00 AM

the road spends her. flesh is a rich currency. the miles whisper. the distance screams. the bridge is crossed. the depth is measured in choices rather than feet.

it's the end of the world again. all confetti skins and broken trumpets. the red lights have their abundance. the intersections have their interrupted hypotheses.

the math is callous. the unfortunate plunder of chaos and inertia presses the wind. the algebra is bent. folded and grieved. ripe veins still moist against the desiccated bones of the beast.

the solitude is its own dialogue. of indeterminate volume and weight.

it's nothing she can barter. it's everything she's spent. the rich paradox of her humanity as she chases the distance that remains.

Saturday 7/02/2016 02:23:00 AM

it withers softly. the lonesome lamp against the impossible grey. reluctant epiphanies press the dark corners. stretch the sour edges. as the hours negotiate crippled bones.

the moment continues to gestate in its rabid fever of time and distance. we chase fortune's truncated remains. broken toys whittling the skeleton. tearing the flesh. scratching our colors into the empt spaces.

the monsters have their textbooks. the villains have their geometry. we struggle with the language. we fumble with the math. allowing the circumstance to flourish. letting it inside us in shallow cuts and missing evidence.

overcome by the distance. spent by cost. acceleration trumps velocity.

Wednesday 6/29/2016 02:09:00 AM

the tender distance tests her. in the bleak angles the sun has struck. a cacophony of negotiated shadows in the perpendicular to lost.

the shallow convergence of the perspective humbles. proximity. betrays the intimate. progress merely a function of indifference.

all her choices are narrow bridges. the arithmetic of how far is secondary. the science of skin wide open.

the points erupt with tired contradiction. her journey is spent. in empty places and absent thieves.

narrow bridges chase the sun.

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