Dull Teeth

Flies. On the shit. Time travel isn't excuse enough. Lies. Bit of sober in during those long songs. Plastic heels on the doll's missing feet. Children of men in rented tuxedos. There's nothing to gain from this experiment. Nothing other than knowing alone is better. For the both of us.

I could poll the tortoise. Ask him how long the race lasted. But he could only answer as long as it took to win. Bodies. Like flies on shit. Tongues. Like maggots growing in the dead.

I could count the second between now and then. As if this time machine were viable evidence.

Watching the wolf. Huff and puff. The pigs with their straw houses.

Lacking such fairy tales I just wait. For a better villain.