Foregone Conclusions

the soft carousel. quenches its parched sentiment. in overt ghosts and empty hauntings. the atoms pretend. small gods manipulating the larger.

touch is medicine, but not a cure.

a vague compendium of doubt. a trembling thigh of certainty. in the shallow scrape of open doors against love's careless wind.

flesh evolves. from want. hungry and loud.weighed down by these bones. betrayed by its patience.

the distance unfolds. tissue paper in the fist of gravity. the journey surrenders to the war within.

her eyes closed as she coasts down that hill. all her allegiance lost to broken ladders and blind demons.

the sharp edge. the tender corner. tangling their puppets.