Wednesday 4/15/2015 12:20:00 AM

the distance doesn't change. only the ways in which we measure it. our speed is constant. it's the terrain that varies.

time became. all vanishing points and crisis. shaky sketches in pastels and watercolor. the manic art of humility and surrender. like all love is.

shadows followed. relentless phantoms in the egress of her thoughts. miles unfolded. crisp and virulent. the fevered virus of life.

she took the turns. or so she thought. grieving in the creases of her tattered maps. touch a ratio. trust a constant. her math crumbling. a quiet inferno. all saltwater taffy and bitten fingernails.

the journey was. had always been. a treason of choices. all stale bread and paper cuts.

no hope of starvation. only the lingering famine.

Sunday 4/12/2015 12:10:00 AM

her splintered scars. her creased resolve. stories unto themselves. her words. naked thieves. her choices. toothless saws.

perspective. it builds. in feeble increments.

the crushed template from which we derive our portraits.

perspective. it swells. like wooden bridges over shallow waters.

her hunger, like an open dress. her desire taut elastic.her loyalty all dead poets and arsenic. moments skipping rope. and tragedies feasting with their mouths open.

all those small monsters looking large. as they lean in closer.

perspective. it whispers of reason. while it screamss madness.

all its angles much too sharp.

Saturday 4/04/2015 12:54:00 AM

the distance laughed out loud. an empty, roiling storm over a desert too arid to ever be quenched. the distance shivered. a naked child bereft of its mother's arms. throbbing in a curtain of hot tears as the miles thoughtlessly accrued.

the scenery stared back at her. as if she was there. swallowing her progress. in shallow cuts and dirty bandages.

the pull of the journey. sharp angles. blunt addictions. all the foul circumstance and tepid lectures any given moment can muster. the dubious philosophies of sour men and eager strangers. stilted embers in a dying fire. permanent creases in the confessions of touch. thin shadows pretending to know the sun.

in a world where geometry is a spoiled math. And choice is a failing science. we still like to believe in the wisdom of madness.

familiar paths maptheir geography in her sweat and exhaustion. the body is a brutal machine. sharp cogs. relentless pistons. powering a voracious engine. intent on going nowhere.

the distance withered under the cull of her stamina. farther haunts her. erupting ghosts focus their chains. vacant gravitys' tender their resignations. in corners. in arcs. in all the manic applause of desperation and hope.

she thought it far. but not such a  great distance. navigating the callous backdoor lovers keep.

she rode into the wind. taking its punches like medicine. no cure. just remission.

all those stunning cancers sleeping inside us. beautiful monsters romancing the hierarchy of fear.

flesh like traffic. stuck again. the architecture of distance erupting in used books and broken glasses. the borrowed reality of choice. the crippling temptations of when. all belt buckles and insulin. in hte diabetic frenzy that insists we are living.

the miles paused. ruled by hunger more than reason. the distance waited. still looking for the near.

she raged  against the distance. as it struggled  with her choices.

she drew her maps. lost. in a catastrophy of familiar intersections.

Wednesday 3/25/2015 11:50:00 PM

empty palm. weak fingers. spoiled math. stale conceits. it's always cold in certain places.

the humble soldier when. in a war of ifs.

all the colors. that's what it is. or none of them. the ground pretends it's still there.

far. too far she knows. that much is always certain.

stuttering gravity. soft crayons drowning in paper. 

the ebbing traffic. the lazy ghosts. thumbing through strangers. the cult of curiosity. the dogma of indifference. skin like stray cats. voices like thieves. no possessions. only borrowed chances. culling their portals from equal parts addiction and sober.

obvious jailers. subtle judges. the blur of hope. the clarity of surrender.

Tuesday 3/24/2015 11:20:00 PM

conditions. fading hows. the weak of gravity penetrating lesser gods.

she chews on the pulp. dwindling choices.  empty angles. she memorizes the exit. all yield signs and snaking ramps.

soft ratchets in loose connections. examining the pauses. the fundamental monsters that make victims of us all.

obvious ghosts favoring the brake. choices all panic and corn starch. as the oven warms.

the meat is pale. the flesh is dark. the anatomy of choice overwhelming.

the colors. more hysteria than life. the doorways. corrupt. the collapsing structure. all plastic demons. and paper gods. tumbling slopes unraveling. to the perpetuity of lost.

listening for that silent alarm. cause. effect. in their indignant parade. steps. steps always taking us. to all the wrong places.

Sunday 3/22/2015 11:55:00 PM

numbers pretend their language. broken paths swallowing the knots. all wet footprints and tentative creases. obvious tomorrows spoiled by incredulous pasts. softly insistant. shouts in the wind.

her voice like chapters. her eyes like punctuation. strangers devoured by their narrative. 

flesh is a story we tell again and again.

we were lost, but that was nothing. more necessity than accident.

the hours gamble. our bodies the wager. no one wins.

i never wanted anything, until i couldn't have it.

words... blunt hammers on the gentle slope of her lips.

the corners always come first. deep paper cuts in life's tender lengths. the beginning and the end. that's what they remember. everything in between is just static.

a panorama of events struggling to reconcile a singular path. gaps in the pieces. cracks in the glass. the long division of touch. the cold parameters of when.

simple bridges. savoring the distance to collapse.

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