Fallen Empires

take the path. let it take you. all bridges and thunder. hungry distance. raw perspective. a storm in the crease of your lips. the lingering words. the stiffening panic. as forever slips away in a cataclysm of logic.

this body. a confederacy of want. all needle and thread. as the holes begin to open.

the book has no words. just pages. staling between the beginning and the end. the song has no sound. only these broken instruments we manipulate.

too many places. all fish hooks and worms. as we write our names in the mud. unsure of how the rain will remember them.