the bark on her sigh. thick sober molasses. dark. sweet. and suffocating. can't swallow. can't. breathe through it. the dense soldiers of why. the soft machine guns of if. a quiet conflict. so loud. with ridiculous choices.

the hours spent. angles on the chase. cold blankets as the bed consumes our flesh. this skin a hollow cocoon. these bones not enough. a stalled metamorphosis. the beautiful laments of strangers and sex.

little dolls. their frozen fingers. forever clutching. what doesn't exist. the pace. the footsteps of when. time. knowing. like some awful vaccine. curing me of this most wonderful of diseases.

the paradox of touch. that it always takes more than it gives. that it multiplies our desires. and divides our trust.

the edge has its uses. gravity boasts its allure. falling becomes us.

naive time machines. of tangled threads and empty needles. deep, filthy rivers of lost. foul maps to navigate these crumbling walls.

close as you are. ferreting the distance in stabs and confessions. close as we were. impossible choices. scratch the glass.

there are glimpses. the dream wakse me up. in jagged stitches. the holes still open. the knots still easily undone.

touch tempts the mechanics of when. this cold engine. this choice as it were. orbits. tracing the edge. skin's momentum catches us.

soft cages. broken locks. a hungry prison. more predator than friend.

the heavy charms. the melting snow. as the cold befriends us. in tangles and crutches.

the dark labors. the flesh whispers. fading songs.

everything is loud and bright. a fatality of words. this illness that is life. screams in pencil. streaks of panic scratching at the stones in her lap. the truth manifests. in her soiled skirt. and her bruised thighs. the spectacle of choice.

fetid docents manage the masterpiece of touch.

her voice. an hysteria of when. paper bridges resenting the rain.

the distances they span. all whispers and chokes. drowning in the absurd ironies that make life our own. 

dying slowly in the soft pillows addiction provides. dissolving easily. in the acid storm hope insists.

fractions. adventure. myth. basting in the spoils of time's arrogance. obvious wounds. and the ghosts that can't be seen by them.

 braids. pony tails. knots. an apocalypse of vanity. all partial lies and gutted fish.

the end of the world comes in slivers. the edge of the paper shaking its fist. distant mountains try on their wigs. as if we can decide. or even begin to measure the depths.

smaller than i was just moments ago. random. like dust in the air. victims of gravity. each of us. tumbling toward a bottom that isn't really there.

suspended. in the inertia of being. shrinking. suffocating. on a waning drug. poisoned by a taste of paradise. swallowed up in the endless expanse between want and fear.

the engine churns. our world drives on. we are only passengers. on a bus crowded with strangers. we are only going there. that is our purpose. regardless of the destination.

these bodies are a prison. every touch a treason.

we are so small. pin pricks in an atom's eye. butter melting into raw dough. salt in the ocean.

time is a predator. a hot oven. a dead animal. curious knots in  a stubborn series of ropes.

we never walk. we can't. we are always falling. without anywhere to land.

her walking dead. her lost soldiers with their bullets in their pockets. frequent the road less travelled. measure the cuts in loose skin. as they chase the disease.

there is no war. only a series of battles. a truth that burrows deeper than blood or scars. the absence of  reason. the flood of indifference. as these walls betray their mortar.

a terse division of skin. purchases each tomorrow with a growing debt. she remembers when the world first ended. it was only a few days from now. it was beautiful if you let it.

the numbers swell. the matches burn. the fingers that hold onto them. the stubborn flame resists the impending darkness. without reason.

we dance on the edge of when. certain it dances with us. long after the music has stopped.

assembling the dolls. lips. skin. tits. lost in the sum of the parts. weak monsters solving for how. the friction of the dead. like stubborn mazes.

the words of strangers. the lure of touch. in all of its lusty abberations. the beauty of want. as it makes us stronger. convincing the crippled that they might yet walk.

until we finally discover. that we are content to crawl.

purple blankets fester. in the persistent cold. wet matches  rupture the vacuum.  small flames. pinch the darkness. distant noises. name their ghosts. unfinished portraits. more speculation than evidence.

life arrives in the bones. moist and dense. a slurry of confessions thick with blood and marrow. choice spoils fate. again and again. infects the skin and leaves it to revel in all its wonderful diseases.

close enough she confesses. touch is acid. easily boring holes in us.

her eyes. temperamental skeletons. trying to dance, though there isn't any music. just sound. as it listens to us struggle for gravity as we fall.

the end is patient. the war is fickle. brick by brick. the evolution solves for self, but rarely does.

the bars on this prison are so weak, yet its cage still persists.

the scabs. the stuttering math of touch. keeps track. the storms that isolate. and the panic that brings us closer.

quiet like sober is. or loud like happiness. we swim out too far and drown in the difference between them. temptation is stronger than the heart.

we are tested by the weather. we are taught by the wind. to keep digging though the storm isn't over. frail soldiers spent in the geometry of war.

the scars. the impotent ambitions. of skin. a hollow appetite satisfying no one. her dirty dresses. her discarded faces. test the path. and discover. nowhere still exists.

soft like hope pretends. hard like it truly is.

a heavy hammer. a fragile nail in a brittle piece of wood.

the cold flaunts its shadows. the dark poetry of measure. as it weighs. as it tries to determine. how low is deep enough.

the bones. the dissonance. angry gods beating thier fists as paradise threatens.

butterfly wings. delicate chokes. solve for surrender.