i wouldn't dare to guess what you wanted.

but i saw the colors of your ache

and knew what you needed.


we were small in every possible way.

strangers in borrowed skins. 

mercenaries choking on empty ammunition. 


i wanted to fall and you were the nearest edge. 

i wouldn't ever try to know what that meant.   

but i tasted your grief. and it was exquisite. 


we were smaller than we'd ever been. 

scratches on time's pendulum. 

scorned by its perpetual sway. 


we lived within the confines of our choices. 

you were a puzzle i couldn't solve. 

i was a problem you couldn't fix. 


we were so small. 

and yet. 

nothing's ever felt bigger. 

 the silence clutches her breath. a stray pebble in its fist. 

no time to suffocate in a world as frantic as ours 

we take the seldom paths. wanderers in fragile masks. chasing any remaining faces.

the syllables chafe her lips as her words speculate their trajectory. 

the world hums under her skin. all wet paint and spoiled geography. 

the fairy tales have their protagonists. salt and vinegar on raw abrasions.

the villains slumber on soiled sheets. while their victims feast on their mangled carcasses. 

flesh tells its stories in limping words. a monster in a beautiful gown. 

dancing with strangers. 

to music no one else can hear. 

 her footsteps simmer quietly. idling at the ostensible junctures between inertia and momentum. 

the world is stale candy and hollow skins. bereft of everything that once made us hunger. 

she opens the closet to access the machine. a stale device more apparition than engine. 

the long road whispers her name. falling leaves on a path that has no destination. 

she crawls inside its cage. and turns the key to wake it up. letting its lies wash over her. 

predation is a pendulum. it swings its blade in both directions. 

all her words are borrowed from thieves and corpses. 

time makes its creases in our flesh. 

but they're rarely permanent. 

 Tell the rain it need no longer fall. our thirst is finally quenched. 

the amber eyes of tomorrow taste our voices like papercuts. 

shred the maps. we've been everywhere. 

flesh is a scavenger. in the  apocalypse of touch. 

let the choices have their way. we've exhausted every wish. 

the truth spoils. fish hooks and fangs in a torn pockets. 

the hunt, only a thinly veiled surrender. 

the flood muses. staunch in its shallow epiphanies. 

time dances on the tip of her tongue. a barefoot aristocrat. 

selling cages to those already in prison. 

we are given our names.
by circumstance and contrition.
worn by the skulk of the wind
as it chases time.

sold at a bargain
into the slavery of earnest skin. 

we measure each moment
in burnt sugar and flaking scabs. 

the distance yawns.
bored by our panic.
we stumble over the zippers
in the backs of our throats.

choking on all the missing words. 

we watch the world end
from inside our dusty windows.
shuffling tomorrow's bones.
runners on withering crutches.
spent by the distance. 

we take the names they give us.
discarded dolls in yesterday's gowns. 

living as if they know us. 

certain they never can.

 time travels through us.
a silent thief.

wearing us as well
as we are worn by it. 

our steps are shallow.
though the terrain is deep. 

choice flinches as we fiddle
with its decaying mask. 

the houses are dark.
the windows all locked.

we are still strangers in this land.
though we've spent all of our lives being lost. 

the tortoise suddenly pauses. 
wondering after the hare. 

scorned by the economy of why. 

the race shrugs its shoulders. 
as the finish line laughs.