the rain decided to fall. all pity and determination in a cyclone of skin. it's not a story until someone's been defeated. and someone else has won.
a mosaic of blood sorts the flesh that we can spare. we pretend to listen as circumstance drowns out our voices. time's stubborn con men and life's manic metabolism.
tomorrow stumbled. more fists than feet. we were there. had been. the walls still stood. it was the ceiling that was missing. we were painting in the dark. building mountains with twigs. as fast as we ran. yesterday remained ahead.
the distance folded. the small cuts festered. the end sharpened its blade. but the hunt was already over.