Precautions

How it happened. How it never did. She drew the lines in pencil. Forgiving the flesh that had colored in. The empty outlines on her face. Together. They went back. To before it had occurred. Everything undone. Still transpiring in their heads. Chainsaws in her wrists. Fail safes in their hearts. Still running. Generating options. For the worlds they'd rendered. And the worlds they'd lost.

Impotent wizards. Flaunting empty curtains. To cowards. Idiots. And whores.

There's no place like home. Because home doesn't exist.

Just a bonfire of moments. Rattling the math. Deaf children. Looking in on the windows of the rich. Just cripples climbing their imaginary ladders. The fail safe still running as we stutter through the past.

Born again. To strange new mothers. Dry wombs. And no blood. Just a few weeks in the future. Old men and infants.

He caught the bullet in his hand. His super powers his patience. He counted the pimples on the mountain. Confident that volcano would erupt.

It was only on his death bed that he finally turned off the fail safe. And dared the future to come.