Chapter 11

 times plays its usual songs. pulling on all the dusty curtains we've left closed for too long.

the sharper exits settle their mileage. with broken zippers and empty pockets. 

she wears her name in tumbling confessions. listening for colors in the grey. 

skin swells with friction. all the absent words that have betrayed us. shed their scabs. 

weakening monsters rattle our beds. polishing their conditional cages. 

time spends itself on fractions of flesh. chewing on lingering debts. 

and we keep counting. 

long after there's nothing left.