Part Nine
The words curdled in my mind.
Time had done its math. We were far more surrender than war.
I counted every scab as the blood slowly stopped. I polished every blade to prepare for the next battle.
What people are is all that people can ever be. The length of rope. The crook of the blade. We shout at the void as it echoes back at us. Everything we’re not.
The small of our thoughts. The narrow corners of our trust. As time ignites under our skin.
We’re sharp as time manipulates us. We cut with anticipation. We bleed with desire.
We’re lost in the agony of knowing how close we came. To being God.
We’re orphans. Telling time in fading bruises.
The memories spoil. The machine discards us.
We keep looking out the window. Searching for a world that’s gone.