Tessellation

sudden truths give way to slower lies. every breath is an invasion. her lungs weep at the prospect of another minute wasted being alive.

small pebbles bore big holes. over time. dull blades still cut. just slower. more jagged.

she chews on the remnants of her former life. soiled blankets content in their filth. now burn in bleached buckets. broken doll parts chafe against the friction of becoming whole again. the void gapes and yawns against the threat of her sobriety. almost as angry as she is that it's over.

tiny knots multiply across long lengths of rope. her rappel is brief. quickly over the edge. to shit on gravity. the climb is infinite. up is without definition. a cautious quality of suspicion. puzzle pieces. desperate for an image. in a place without vision.

she shouts at the deafness that is choices. making any still left to her. she punches the lead walls that shape the world. hunting for windows she's not certain were ever there. weak candles in long, unlit corridors. straining toward a distant wind.