Chapels Made of Paper

Decoding the fountain. Drip by drip. Through the water's skin the pennies blink. Copper eyes searching for the next wish.

Every breath is a cryptogram. Puzzles lodged between the answer's thighs. Picking up that scent of surrender. While I query the letters for their logic.

I turned the handle to the right until it stopped coming. Minute by minute I watched as those teeth slowly clenched.

It was broken. There was nothing to do except stop it from flowing. Every debate ended the same.

What now?

I'd always imagined I would change. Eyes ticking like a clock. Counting down from the first look to the last.

I think it was always broken. This just showed us how.

These words are not a mirror. They're a eulogy. There is no difference betweenn angel and demon except how we ask them.

When the stone is frayed all we have to remember it by is the grave.

And we kneel down in chapels made of paper while the rain comes down.