Autonomous Slaves

a choice of touch torments. flesh is a constant treason. alone solves for the missing. unseen variables. molecular equations. the fly that watches. the butterfly that's to blame for the tornado.

subsisting on the droll dialogue of monsters. knotted shoestrings dance against nervous thumbs. space. that indefatigable gap between us. clears its throat in a repetitious display of dominance. empty baskets dropped in the woods. waiting for the predators to pick up on the scent.

she has her answer. in the stoic resolve of the numbers. the callous parade of the hours as each before expires into the next. each minute a cliff. surrendering the last to its edge.

yesterday arrives in a bustle of how. bits of the future in the scars on the past. skin like Velcro. tearing away in loud, easy tugs.

the truth is both a poison and a cure. it only depends on how you take it.

she sees blood on the stairs. but no footprints.