the folds were easy. the patterns more complex. as we fiddled with the math underneath our skin.
the map is always there. below the words. between the colors. crumbling epiphanies trace desire's corpses.
the moment erupts. all wet tissue paper and brittle candy on heavy sticks.
the bridges sway. the wind pushes. and we are subsumed by our own insignificance.
splinters in the sunset. hammers in the flood. choice is the structure. circumstance the mechanics.