Lightyears To Travel Minutes Left

She slept. For as long as any girl had ever slept. In the wrinkles in god's fists. Dreaming of mundane things. As her world came to an abrupt end. She said, well, strangers are lovers you've scorned. And friends. You keep looking. Let me know when you find some.

Each lilting step she took creaked the stairway. The harder she tried to be silent, the louder her footsteps. But evenso, she was determined to reach the cellar. To find what secrets those dank boxes kept. Of little girls kneeling in torn underwear. And women. In bathtubs boiling red.

She listened. For longer than any addict ever did. To the warnings. The quiet sirens turning rainbows in the bruises on her knees. As she fell down. And got up again. Ad nauseum. She tested their love with needles and with thread. Repairing the torn edges and cutting the seams.

Her lips worried closer to the kiss. The thinner the fabric stretched. She slept. close enough to gods or devils. She dare not guess which. She dreamt herself small enough. That everything was far away.