Sunday 12/16/2018 12:42:00 AM

time trembled. a stray on our doorstep.the math was arrogant. gravity was restless.

the whole thing is just dots. we're meant to connect. a simple jigsaw of skin. disjointed pictures. hollow eyes. blunted crayons.

the colors long gone. the clock still counting.

the miles accumulate. a powerless wealth we spend on wooden limbs. we run. charming the horizon with threats of victory. plastic soldiers with paper bullets. fighting in a war no one can win.

the slap of the sun. the choke of the wind. as gravity bites down hard.

we're just bones. hungry for flesh. a severity of circumstance. as the hours polish their weapons.

12/09/2018 11:33:00 PM

the road surrendered. as we ran uphill in the wake of gravity's limp. its throne vacant. its power erased. we danced. ribbons on the tail of time's kite. hanging on by loose knots. laughing at the wind in our eyes.

artists. each breath a brushstroke. messiahs. martyrs in skin's epiphanies.

if it wasn't when, it would've been how. the questions that color our lips. the choices that construct our bridges. from bone and panic.

i could name them, but the metaphors are more elegant. i could say it hurt, but it really didn't. we're all thieves. taking more than we give.

the distance swallows. gravity chokes. our hunger defines us. even as our endurance persists.

12/02/2018 12:45:00 AM

the thief sighed. disappointed by how easy the crime was. the map tore. but lost had already been and gone.

the rain decided to fall. all pity and determination in a cyclone of skin. it's not a story until someone's been defeated. and someone else has won.

a mosaic of blood sorts the flesh that we can spare. we pretend to listen as circumstance drowns out our voices. time's stubborn con men and life's manic metabolism.

tomorrow stumbled. more fists than feet. we were there. had been. the walls still stood. it was the ceiling that was missing. we were painting in the dark. building mountains with twigs. as fast as we ran. yesterday remained ahead.

the distance folded. the small cuts festered. the end sharpened its blade. but the hunt was already over.

Wednesday 11/21/2018 10:47:00 PM

lingering scabs. the miles spent. the horizon choked. and she was glad to see it suffocate.

paper bridges curse the rain. painting the weather with broken brushes. burned out bulbs blame the darkness. as blindness overtakes.

we're the geometry of flesh. we're the algebra of touch. all the vacant arithmetic of bones and blood.

soft needles. digging into scar tissue. colorless mountains. scratching the sun. hollow thieves. wearing the fragments of our surrender.

proximity is silent. distance shouts. we stutter under the mechanics of want. our hunger unconvinced.

11/14/2018 11:10:00 PM

the chafe of time was sharp as summer finally surrendered. the miles accumulated. a thick membrane of circumstance and exhaustion. the mud on her feet. the sun at her back. as the maps drew their paths under her skin. all broken bottles and bent needles. in the chaos of perpetuity.

deflated dolls with bows on their hips. drowning in a deepening silence.

the salt on the margins. vague colors in the remuneration of flesh. the subtle pierce of the hook. as the worm escapes the fish.

a heavy clown. brick eyes. concrete lips. turning the ladder. as the ceiling forgets.

it wasn't always that high. but now it is. the falling is simple. the bite of gravity. the comfort of the bandages.

Thursday 11/08/2018 11:33:00 PM

the angle winced. as gravity clenched. the ground was soft as we dug into the distance.

a cacophony of  intersections teased. while we consulted our maps. the sharp crackle of dead skin loud as the bridges took us closer.

we tumble. nothing to grab. nothing at all worth holding onto.

a cold lottery of flesh. auctioning each hour. profiting in the turmoil of our discontent.

touch negotiates. friction simmers. it's an ancient debt all skin must assume.

a ladder. neatly tucked under our arms. as the stairs collapse. the sober bottom. the giddy precipice. spoiling for the sliver of light to take us home.

friction sparks. weak infections of want. fumbling toward paradise with eyes still closed. .

the distance hunts. all wounds and panic. hope is a predator. all the puzzle pieces. relentless in their pursuit to fill the holes.

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