Blank Epiphanies

She spoke. In electrical impulses. Frequencies difficult to hear. She fucked like an orphan. Searching dutifully for missing parents. The mattress on her chest. The building in her throat. As the city awoke. In the terrible yawns. Of monsters and bitter men.

Trying on the movie. A scene at a time. The macabre bargains of skin painting the windows shut. The corpse in her gown. Flirting with the ghosts. So many ways to kill myself. How I am to decide?

Flaunting the calendar. The flesh tends to choose for us. Which switches will activate. Those infamous portals.

Divide she warned. Figure on at least half. Presume a war. As the fig leaf move to cover. The things we thought we saw. Entertain the strays. As all these time lines extrapolate our flaws.

Red riding hood left her basket. For the wolf to find. Hansel and Gretel shoved the witch into the oven. But I don't know which fairy tale I belong in.

She coughs her words into the pages. Content with the disease. And wonders if the wolf's teeth are big enough.