Sunday 5/09/2021 11:30:00 PM

 frail soldiers wade deeper into the blood. the empty salesmen of time persistently knocking on our doors.

there's no way to love that hasn't been broken. there's no place to touch that hasn't been violated. 

we are the animals that we are. a hierarchy of bone and logic drowning in the perpetuity of want. 

the panic ebbs. the flesh is tamed. we are children of our mothers. we are the pendulum of our pain. endlessly solving an equation that has no end. 

the edge opens. like so many stitches coming undone. the wound festers. while we flaunt our useless medicines. 

we die again and again. while we wait for the end. 

our despair blossoms. like a a flower swallowing the sun. 

5/02/2021 11:19:00 PM

 the end comes without remorse. we stumble into the void as lost as we were when we first emerged from it. the heavy sacks we call life mysteriously emptied somehow. the crutches we walked on no longer needed. 

life burns as a small flame. too easily blown out. 

this world is sharp and hard. all corners and heavy weights. what comes after we can only wonder. is it softer. is it peace. 

we live our small lives. our empty pens scratching at the blank pages. desperate to say something to a world that seldom listens. 

we chase the wind. in all our arrogant glory. a cacophony of monsters and sheep souring in our heads. while we wait for the ultimate truth. that final breath our last great epiphany. 

the absence of god. the freedom of release. 

flesh hardens. thoughts evaporate. we say goodbye in a fury of grief.

we run our fingers over the edge of time's blade.

ready to bleed. 

Wednesday 4/28/2021 11:34:00 PM

 death comes in slivers and shallow cuts. a slow surrender of bone and blood. we're weakest when we want. and we're always wanting. 

we're animals in human skin. we're gods on broken crutches. arrogant enough to think we can change what has always been changing us. 

we're dead leaves. adrift in the wind. stumbling in the shadow of the tree that's discarded us. angry orphans. plump with the illusion of power. 

we're wolves banging on the doors of pigs. huffing and puffing to no effect. 

we're victims of our own fairy tales. choking on all the lies that used to comfort us. 

the end is sparse and lonesome. hurried stones defy gravity. 

still they all sink. eventually. 

4/21/2021 11:05:00 PM

time is a dull blade. it tears rather than cuts. hope is a clay staircase. it swallows more than it lifts. 

we're thieves in each other's skins. we're all Oedipus in a sum of diminishing fables. 

the glass breaks on the window of anticipation. we ignore the blood. at long last we can see inside. 

skin struggles against the pull of choice. promises are stretched taut. we chase the match. as if the flame hasn't always belonged to us. 

the torn pages. the ripe fruit. a tableau of empty epiphanies stalled inside the fever of want. 

reality bites down hard. its fangs sharp.

the stage opens to a chorus of  open wounds. 

the audience applauds. as gravity chokes on our corpses. 

4/14/2021 10:55:00 PM

 the hours churn. restless on their lilting axis. thieves with nothing left to take. our voices stumble. words are inadequate. we touch the void with hollow fingers. we chase the sun with melting wings. 

i wanted to know how. the cracks and the angles. the wrinkles and the knots. but the miles between us proved to be too much. 

we painted the streets. we followed the detours. unaware that we were lost. we counted the stars. while the moon laughed at our ignorance. 

the years swallowed us.

the race was over and the tortoise hadn't really won.

the lure of the edge a powerful narcotic. the promise of the end an unreliable escape. 

we broker every touch. the cold equation of want over trust. . 

our skin all stones and tissue paper. as we tore into each other. 

we lived like the end was near. but when it finally came we were devastated. 

Monday 4/05/2021 11:51:00 PM

 the yellow sun strikes its hammers under my skin. the subtle music of life resonating softly. fragile butterfly wings defiant against the fury of the wind. 

we're hunters. our only weapon our wits. we're charlatans. our only truth the lies that we believe in. 

we search for the soul. assigning depth where none exists. we create the fairy tales that sooth our panic. we're stranded in a forest full of imaginary candy houses. 

the miles chase us even as we chase them. the sublime puzzles of emotion erupting like volcanoes in our heads. 

i am who i am from having forgotten who i was. the pieces melting like ice cubes in empty glasses. 

the monsters in their cages are still grabbing for the key. the cages between us are still the only thing i trust. 

time draw its own maps. while we struggle against where they're taking us. 

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