Pale Parodies of War

the steady corruption of skin. bald numbers growl and scratch. the warped door wheezes on its hinges. the worn lock chokes on its cylinders. a pantomine of choices. more surrender than freedom. we each learn to swim under the weight of time. content to drown rather than resist.

the silence chases. limping as it does. crippled stories draw her. in jagged sketches. and threaded whispers. the world ends every night. and begins again at sunrise. what happens inbetween is quiet and confident. as it pisses on her bed.

the monster swells. stiffening her flesh. the world deflates. a lost balloon. on a journey into the sun.

the words defeat her. every time. pointed bullets.

she scolds time. for overlooking the obvious. she thanks gravity for being as weak as it is.

her puzzle. her tempest of words. disregards the math. hungry for the cold. and  the comfort found in its desolate aftermath.

the sprawling sand. the dented Earth. pictures stolen. and absent soldiers. still fight a war that ended long ago.