Sour Contradictions

parellels. isolated. the fission of minutes are time lumbers on. her chalky fingers. feel for the blank. where there is still room to write.


her stories stall just before the end approaches. dank closets. where the skeletond hide their shrouds. parched epiphanie on the finger of the sun. the choiec is only this. live or die.

there is no reasoning with the curtains. Nor the window's shattered glass. the outsides tumbles in. Like melting chocolate. Until everything is as sweet as it is dark.

the world ends when i close my eyes.

but each time i open them up again, it's a little less eager to begin.