Monday 1/06/2014 12:20:00 AM

the cold forms its thin crust. brittle nails struggling to hold together rotting wood.

the winter arrives anemic, yet heavy. a stained blanket. ripe with urine. and dying things.

time stops at some point. or rather it gives up. crumbles like so much stale bread.

the walls wither. the hours wheeze. this cancer they call life consumes all the living.

the brittle boards pretend a floor. the choking flame imagines light. but the darkness knows our deepest secrets.

time whispers in the gnarled folds of broken skin. wounds still alive long after the scars have smothered them. time doesn't heal. it only forgets.

the stir of gravity. like butter. melting into blood. the acquaintance of skin. the perjury of touch. tightening its knots.

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