Reservoirs

Alone was far away. The island was close. Saviors not buoyant, but tall enough to walk on the ocean floor. Above the drowning. Just barely. Alive. Mosquitos. Stealing blood from the dying.

The itch deep and everlasting.

Clean is stark. Lonely disinfectants poison the wound. A treason of intent. Careful to purify, but not cure. Soiled claws. Naked tigers. Betrayed by their stripes. The truth is I was never even close. To dying. It was just that living seemed more real by the contrast.

The urgency. Spoiling every breath. Gods beneath the skin absolving. Infectious utopias. Temperate and fastidious. As any lie to which I can commit. Leopards doting on the kill. Spots. Full of flesh. Taste. Like a lion. Like a lamb.

The arbiter. The sense that time doesn't know at all. What it wants from us. Minutes. Rabid. I am bitten. Bleeding. Fangs sculpt the skin. To suit the kiss. I am sick. I am deaf. Unable to hear the whispers of the jury. The judge. The verdict. The proof that we are lost. Guilty. Innocent. Dead.

The quick. You can't prove me wrong if you don't understand the question. The nail close to the skin. Hammering.

In moments gone that can be forgotten. I remember who god is. The roar in my head as I say nothing again. I remember heaven. And don't really miss it.

The library. Minutes in franctic transitions. From flesh to blame. The drug in calm contrition. Prepositions of touch. The law of alone. Arresting eager lips. In fatal integers. I'm not there. Nor will I ever be. Where I am. At this moment.

Until life can determine the difference between death and birth.

Too far. Too close. Name the bones. All broken. Remove her dress. See the tits. As small as she is intelligent. Prioritize the flesh. Puppets on short strings. Still can dance.

Control. Isn't that enough. The math shapes the man. The woman. The equation in divisions of when. Anything mattered. Never forgetting. Chosen like a scar. Taken like a drug. Solace. A black door. A white room.

No color anyhwere.