open bridges. the perpendicular to if. like fresh scabs. bubbling beneath the surface. with hungry blood. and old wounds. simmering. boiling over. scalding hot.
closed roads. bright with defiance. and the warm smother of a familiar path. a template of empty convictions. all jagged outlines. and collateral scars.
spoiled crayons. the colors absurdly confident. against the chaos. the simple box. quiet against the panic. corners like fever. the evolution of the causality. all thunderclaps and stabs of skin. in a deluge of wonder and an apocalypse of addiction.
there is the edge. trembling as it does. the throb of life. flowing with knots. there is the vanity of gods. smudged mirrors. like wreckless resolve.
her distance is bargained. her miles are spent. on stiff shadows and pale saviors. the infinite chaos of untamed gods.
the indifferent maps that shame us. trembling loudly. the hideous clowns that spoil us to laugh. when it is dark. and the light has gone out.