Monday 3/28/2016 01:11:00 AM

the typical monsters in their usual garb. broken thieves chase the horizon. blunt corners and loose poisons bend the walls.

she limps. she slouches toward. the comfort of the expanding void.

the flesh is paper. the heart is clay. the art is living.

she folds. time pauses. she stumbles. shatters those flimsy locks. and the distance lets her take it.

simple measures. elaborate devices. as are the natural algorithms of the lost.

it waits. its patience infinite.

the kettle simmers. the bubbles form. husked dolls grow into their bones. clever wolves manipulate gravity.

in torn maps. in the arrogant math of lovers. and the stern vanity of grief.

it's only skin. as thin as it's become.

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