Not Quite Linear Sad Poem

sold the dark. pieces at a time. little cuts. quick jabs. suffocated dolls. chewing on their tongues. quiet armies massaging their guns. the numbers always find us. long division of the cruelest kind. our journey takes us no further than the places we've always been.

broken colors search for the swtich. the stark choke of light that solves for the edge.

touching. the scrape of skin. generous scabs. tame the wounds. discpline the bruises.

the hunt comes and goes. a pendulum of flesh. counts the fading moments.

be patient. the day eventually forgets. how close we were.