Epitaph

Taunts the arbiter in stabs of reason. Us then. Bound to those dissident atoms. Chance. In more mutations than I can defer. A clock ticking on fading shadows. The robots scream their faulty code. In numbers. Dates. Empty epiphanies. The machine tries so hard to access the flesh. But always the connection fails. Until this side of the Earth turns away from the sun again. We sit in the darkness side by side and pretend the world is as small as it seems.

Caught the cat with the mouse in his jaw. Another gift from dead men. Save the timeline for later inspection. Nothing lives in that vacuum. Or if it tries it fails.

I assumed it was obvious. How I felt. The deep graves waiting for their corpses. The shovel blunt with my callouses. The hole. To be dug. Still digging. The void. As worlds perish. Still digging. Under the dictatorship of these angry molecules.

It's never deep enough. The dead don't listen. When the time machine is broken. They just use it anyway.