Test Patterns

Ill with determination she scribbled the disease in chunks of vein. Tort lips arguing with gravity again. Pieces of train track lost in finding where they've never been. The piano on his hip laughing c chords in unison with faulty wisdoms about what I should want.

I don't want anything.

The smoke spills from her nose and she imagines herself a dragon. The fire in her throat real at last. The long stairways taking her somewhere else. Anywhere.

I don't go there.

It comes to me. In spasms. Baby birds thrown from the nest too soon. Bland wings and dull beaks hungry for more throw up. The lawsuit of want accusing victims. Letting the monster go.

We need the monsters. To make us ourselves. To knit these all too patient skins. That let us try them on even when they could never hope to fit.

Wearing myself in sips of coffee too hot to swallow. Liars in worn overalls cultivate the reasons.

I don't know how hard it is. I only know it's far away.