time is a weapon. full of sharp edges. the more we press against it the deeper it cuts. 

the buttons open. we're exposed. we scramble for the colors, but the gray is all that's left. 

the body has its metrics. that time comes to collect. we're fooled by the corners. even as we turn them, there's still no exit. 

we chew on the lies. as the truth leaves us famished. 

a paradox of causality. as our intentions unravel. 

everything is small. except the distance. as we tear at the maps that leave us lost. 

we lose our grip on our grief .everything falls. and all our choices shatter. 

Our cages become us..The sober of skin. The panic of pleasure. As we tabulate profit and loss. All the roads less travelled. All the broken arithmetic. of bone and flesh. past and present. 

a template of how.drowning in an ocean of if. chasing the creases in the paper. trusting the folds. 

we died so long ago. but the ghosts linger. 

on an empty stage. in a fading light. death forgets us, but we remember it. a cruel mistress. an adamant poison that refuses to kill. 

the blade sharpens. tomorrow wets its lips. We're burdened by the strict dimensions of grief

thieves without clothes. naked in the decaying epiphany of what life once was. 

 the end approaches. in heavy boots and tattered mittens. it's a timid beast. but a predator still the same. 

the past flickers. fluorescent and lingering. arrogant and unreliable. a rotting carcass long since picked of all its meat. 

we're chased by our hunger. creatures of want. victims of our own hypocrisy. we lean into the cold. only to find it goes much deeper. 

we try to press pause, but the end has no stop. 

gathering the shards of our broken mirrors. ignoring the blood.

we scream at the colors. as the sky collapses.

the monsters within us uglier than they've ever been. 

Our cages come and go. Some are fleeting. Others linger. 

Life is a liquid and a solid. It freezes. It melts. It drowns and it quenches. It builds and it crushes. 

We dance. To imaginary music. We run in circles. Insects in a panic. Unwilling to accept that we're meaningless. 

The pedestal collapses. Our arrogance undoes us. The simple mind. The complex heart. An impossible reconciliation. 

There's the lever under our oblivion. That we're constantly trying to manipulate. 

The cage is soft sometimes. We lean into its layers. Burying ourselves in the sharp claws of delusion. 

We're animals. Primates. Poisoned by the sting of evolution. 
 

 the darkness works like an engine. propelling us forward though we're unwilling. the darkness stains us. bleeding irrevocably into our skin. 

it can't be washed away. it can't be cleansed. 

we're actors in a play written by strangers. we've forgotten all our lines. and the curtain has risen. 

we love because we must. doesn't matter if it makes a difference. 

the voices scatter. the promises expire. pain our only tether in the deepening abyss. 

there are no names. no faces. just the strangle of time. as the truth wakes us up. 

we stab at the winter. as the cold overcomes us. 

still, we're the only ones who bleed. 

 the moment crumbles. dry and hollow. choices grow stale and shatter. we forget what we want. we resent what we have.

our hunger seethes. scorching our veins. as all this pain clamors for an escape. 

we're frozen inside this skin. prisoners in a war with time. every breath is a treason. 

our muscles wilt. our words turn to powder. and are stolen by wind.

the parachute strings snap and we're falling fast. still the bottom is fickle. 

the end that was promised slips away. 

death simmers slowly. a kettle on a low boil.

she cries. but mercy isn't one of her prescriptions. 

 the tunnel broke. the flood rushed in. we tried to swim. but the moment had other plans. 

she kissed herself goodbye. smearing her lipstick against the void. 

it rained. it snowed. we tried to see the difference as we shifted into the rhythm of the abyss. 

the lies were loud. the truth louder still. as the structure of our union collapsed. 

all heavy curtains and tortured bed sheets in the shadow of crumbling promises. 

we wore our love like a tight fitting skin. we sucked the marrow from every bone inside of it.. 

sated, but still unnourished. 

i waited. like an orphaned pig. for the wolf to blow my house down. 

i called it love, but couldn't find any concrete evidence. 

we're never so small as when we think we need someone.