we were small again. selling our handcuffs though the keys were lost.
tragic as time allowed. while we dismantled the pianos that used to play that song.
we don't count. there's no need. we own nothing. everything is borrowed.
we don't add or subtract. our arithmetic is a thief. though the numbers change, the sum is unmoved.
the bridge yawns and we scramble to cross it. hungry for anywhere else.
the paper tears. the story is divided. we discard our maps. the loss is loud. the pace is stilted. as we continue the hunt.
we're not there. we never will be.
we think we're chasing the monsters.
but we're really just running in place.