the storm settled quietly into our path. the pant of animals. the lurch of cages. as we slithered free of those empty skins. thieves in an obvious surrender. raging against the spoiled equations that have led us to this place.
forsaken by choice. suffocated by circumstance.
little dolls with their dresses coming undone. their plastic fists gripping swollen latches. on doors that cannot be opened.
we listen to the hiss of time as its fangs inject their venom.
our paper veins collapsing under their weight.
we live in little fictions. little girls lost in the woods. teasing the bite of wolves.
we whisper too loudly. as the end comes to collect.
letting all those monsters crawl into our bed.