Dark Poetry: Idyllic Proliferations

swiftly time penetrates. burrowing deeply into existing wounds. 

choice the reluctant narrator. as our lives confound us. 

blood a stubborn piston. that drives the engine. 

we stumble. our voices swallowed up in its relentless gears. 

humbled by its power. 

we calculate life in cuts and scrapes. and the frail arithmetic of love's timeless anarchy. 

we know that the world ended long before we started counting. 

yet we still keep multiplying.