The Weaker Forces

colder still flees the auditor. broken beads and slithered flesh. 

tantamount to the many coffins that lie ahead.

absent is the heavy yoke of time. as we are torn toward our simmering oblivion.

scolded in scattered lies. spent too soon.

change chokes on our ample arrogance.

lilting saviors stare into the sun. and peddle their blindness.

expectation tangles its knots.

so we gather our empty skins,

gravity bites down so hard.

that we let it swallow us.