Sunday 7/26/2009 01:16:00 AM

Time she says to forage. Gaping wounds. Suffocate in little scraps of skin. The door slams. Ten times. Maybe more. She hears the sound. Sees no faces. The sun squeezes her from her dreams. Bits of pulp. Soil the floor. She is liquid. To be captured. She is vapor. The heat from their touch changes her. Gravity loses the war.

Now within these tunnels. Thin and sparse. Truth collapses. On its jelly arms. The matchsticks ignite. In a rapid cough. The fire reveals the skeleton. All the meat is gone. Devoured, but still my hunger persists.

She arrives in fragments of sleep. Bits of dream put weight on the nightmare. Salt in her grimace. As the words utter her in frantic inflections. The monkey with the Bible in her hand. Sees god in every page.

The moment splits. Angry atoms on the prowl. Parse the explosion. Insects. In the grooves of her flesh. Build their tiny cities. They live. While we perish. Everything I remember. Is a cold combustion. Igniting dead skin. Shadows tumbles through these mirrors I call eyes. I see nothing. Open circuits failing to animate the darkness.

I would endeavor to substantiate. Chunks of clay. Play with their faces. As I struggle to see them. It's only a button. Fingers like an elevator take me up. I've been there. I will be again. In the tunnels of ambivalent gods. Miracles like poker chips. Tumble into the pot.

It's always the same. The end comes quietly. In deaf arbiters. I struggle to match their bets. But never see their hand.

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