Pragmatic Saviors

the years moved swiftly through her skin. a simple syrup. sour, but fortified with stubbornness. By the prospect of predators arrogant with the hunt.

she names the voids. the barren geometry of choice. tugs on the frays in the hem of her dress. monsters in the beds of men. proving her naked. like hungry matches. desperate for oxygen. devour the flame. the tiny matchstick mad enough to consume immeasurable darkness.

the arrow. the want. soldier enough. in enduring wars. with stagnant kings. weakened by the crown. their spears. heavy with the copious conditions. that giants woulds defend. from the empty tables that feast would pretend.

the simple execution of words. close to the needle. the spoil of lovers. as her song fades. the hatchet to the wolf's belly. As the forest is calculated.

there is time enough she insists. Asphalt to chase. And pus to suspect. As she learns from the infection. Leaving the penny to the fountain. and the bridges to collapse.

she's there again. the same as she always was. blade and barter second thoughts. as the minutes prowl in their thunder. hours erupting to the touch of strangers.