Measure of Madness

she wallows in the frailty of the corpse. a stubborn algebra of meat and bone. try on each pause. as she would a beautiful gown. all too aware of the arrogance of circumstance.

the obvious predators poison her sleep. close enough to death that all these weapons are useless.

down to the zipper. surrendered to the ink. all the weak monsters that animate our decisions. the scrapes and howls that do the foul arithmetic. that leaves us alone again.

the purchase of penance cheap, but rare. supply and demand not withstanding. the violence of now. nervous with blood and bruises.

time chases her. as she pursues it. layers. like stuttering fountains. the certain crease of flesh. as it awakens to the void. her fingers. a pale treasure map. Scraping the soil. For suggestions of proximity.

broad leaves on thin branches. capture the sun. empty corridors steal the hunt. in swift arrows too sharp for the numbers. in cold drum beats. louder than her deafness can ignore.

the lie of survival. the crumble of skin. as if approaches the thief.

all of her choices tumble forward. confident fractions and nervous decimals. the darkness strokes her lips. the moonbeams braid her hair. the small wars in her head erupt. Consuming other locations.

the clowns hurry. thick blankets of flesh still alive in their arms. the nervous math of strangers. presses the sun to remember. blinds us.

a barren circus. stiff with hungry lions. quietly roars.

indebted to the violence she waits. for the world to forgive her.