Sunday 3/10/2013 01:09:00 AM

time enough. wilting words. barking slaves. soft hammers caress. the hard edge of the world. we've always tread too close to it, stubbornly refusing the fall. stolen hours. moist with fainting gods. and all the many simple lies that are the archictects of everyday life.

the gravel road. paints her journey in blood. as she stumbles forward. on her bare feet.

the future stutters and chokes. stupid and infrimed. the future dances and shouts. the same as any prisoner in the throes of freedom.

her pencil finds the edge and follows closely. a fever of strangers. deeply embedded in the thin threads of purpose.

time confesses. a sinner just the same as us. absent the constrictions of heaven or hell. stilll desperate to measure the man against his demons.

the paper creased. the seams all cut. the shapes exceeding their form.

the eager monsters that offer us war. where peace whispers. the simple cuts that trains the beasts to attack.

time whimpers and tugs on its leash. entirely unaware. that it's been captured.

we listen. with our broken ears. to words we don't understand. wearing each moment in nick of bone and pieces of skin. the monster close enough to kill. but the thrill is in letting it live.

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