Thursday 6/25/2020 11:26:00 PM

small cuts grow. the blood reminds us. how fragile we are. 

the monster yawns. swallows us in its sleep. 

she's trapped inside herself. all broken locks and crumbling staircases. 

i was someone, until i wasn't. that's the paradox. time strikes us like matchsticks. sudden flames. that smolder in the shadows of our lives. lights we can see, but never reach. 

we negotiate with circumstance. from our broken pulpits. wagering skin. spending thoughts on permanent markers and broken locks. 

wearing our weakness in a kaleidoscope of grief. as the world plunges its needles deeper. until the only thing we can feel is the end


we're never so small as when we're waiting for something to change.

the zipper bites down. the door closes. but through the window i still see her tears. 

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