stubborn edges are our last remaining bridge. the butcher in our ugly fairy tale.
we cut the horizon with our stones. searching for a way inside what we choose to remember. .
the silent rooms. the quivering doors. the broken locks. laughing as we search for egress.
the whispering hallways. whose corners seldom tell. how close we are to the end. how far we've come from the beginning.
memory is a theater. stories told by liars. still we applaud. because it tells the stories we want to have lived.
we fester. inside our straw houses. desperate for the wolf to make good on his threats.
holding that match. waiting. always waiting. for the perfect moment to to burn it all down.
Tuesday
7/13/2021 11:30:00 PM
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