Thursday 3/10/2011 01:18:00 AM

treason's of flesh. the ghosts flirt with her equations. we've spent too much. selling ourselves to strangers. there is no profit in love. or sex. just the numbers we are left with. to turn over in our heads. dead flies in glass containers. left to die in their repetitions.

once i knew. the reflex of choice. that we are victims of its whims. missing pieces of chalk. gone. but still showing up on that slate.

once i knew the motivations of wolves. a weak god performing his math. on hungry ghosts.

an empty box choosing when. someone would determine its sacrifice.

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