the truth came and went. a deflated balloon. the broken string still tied to our wrists.
the purple folds. the yellow creases. a preponderance of edges as sober insists.
the dog barks. the snake hisses. we carefully mend the seams on these tattered skeletons. as our prey coyly undresses.
the bloated angles spend their geometry in spectacular deficits. the slender fortunes dole out their hollow mercies. as lost stabs at the remaining pieces.
it's all a game we continue to play. though it can never be won.
everything is small from this distance.