Quixote

If it was long enough before I began negotiating with these questions I would've known better than to have ever asked.

That's the whole of it. Your tenderloin of sad smiles is getting cold. Still. It's a buffet. No one has to eat the leftovers. They'll vanish with the rest of the war that never was.

While in factories all over the world they continue creating passable facsimiles. Little frowns on big faces. Change perception. Change how I measure everything. I can weigh it only by my memory of what is missing.

Long snakes in the tunnels of her stare drip with venom. Welcome the poison. Selfish gods accumulating heavens. Death has always been there. Lethargic saviors work the integers. Each breath a grain of sand slipping through the thin waist of an hourglass.

I'm bartering with the darkness for one more peek at daylight. I'm explaining to the nightmare why I can't go back to sleep. It's all so obvious. But I still don't see it.

Long division. Decimals. Fractions. Of people I can only claim to know. Inert demons looking for their horns in the lost and founds.

What we lose doesn't remember us. It wouldn't be lost if it did. Little lies wake me from this dream. Make the colors real again. Brittle claws scrape the pavement looking for obvious treasures.

I'm not there anymore. I just like going back to when it still hurt.

You can't be found until you've been lost.