Thursday 6/20/2013 11:43:00 PM

sinking bows offer their dim lights. the empty forest still hums. defiant of the darkness. her listening corprse has numbers to offer. the thorough horizon of flesh. separates lands and sky. her time travel is internal. her marathon runs in whispers.

if it's over and only the grave still waits. the taste is more measure than the sin.

hungry moments. chew on her. tumbling grief flattens. hollow hours.

the torn puppets. steal their dance from simple synonyms. the battered strings.define the madness. with letters from the future and choices from the past.

we name them. as we would any ghosts. processing the scars first. before swallowing the blood.

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