Burns

time comes in stutters. a choking diarrhea of loose skin. the cough of then. the humble of now. all of the twigs in her bushel. to be burned by the fire.

the monsters have their dialogues. levels of how. it came to this. the monsters have their theories. on what of our flesh is still ours. lengthy algorithms to say what i already know.

lost is just the beginning. lost is the only way to prove when i've been found.

the curtains are sheer. the window is oblivious. as i listen for the sound. of the years pretending not to count. Everything is gone. everything is there. in broken doorknobs and cracking skins. the fire never went out. i just forgot the flames were there.