lost corners scald. left over the flame much too long. broken stairs keep their count. of how many have fallen. the walls sigh waiting for us to discover the exit.
the flood comes gently. a tender poison. too timid to kill. all missing feathers and hollow bones. waiting on the wind to knock us down.
we cut our paths. deep trenches in earnest flesh. bloody roadmaps drawn on the parchment of our weakness.
the fever surges. life opens its vast jaw. we peer down into the depths of its throat and brace ourselves for the time when it will swallow us.
but in the end, it only chews us up and then spits us out.
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