The Weight of When

time is linear. we are not. all our monsters always counting backwards from the moment that we were lost. 

all our journeys. tugging on our backs. mercenaries with little left to lose.

life is a merchant and a thief. circumstance lights its matches. we pour the gasoline. 

every touch a button trembling loose from its home. leaving that much more skin exposed.  

we never came upon the end. it had been there all along. 

like any worthwhile disease. love is both incurable and ferocious. 

and these hungry bodies are so impatient.