Slavery In All Forms

It was just seconds before she was to leave. Every window was covered in lead drapes. All of their anecdotes were obsolete. The distance from here to there mediating her thoughts with whips and chains.

It was so far. All her footprints disappearing into the sunken shoulders of humanity. I can't remember. How I got here. I don't know. How I'll ever get home. Or that I ever want to. Leave this ghoulish carnival of endearing fiends.

She could draw us a new god. Like a child does with finger paints. She never would though. Admit that it's dead. That distant light. The smiling radiation courteously poisoning us. She could wake the Zeus from his long dream. Explain to him we are wise enough now. But she never would.

Because we don't know. We haven't conquered. And gods aren't real.

She did leave. Her flesh still warm in my bed. Just the thought of her remained. A bit of sour candy on my tongue. A lead curtain across a sunken window pane I haven't the strength to open.