Gentle Predators

static in her voice. turns all the words to junk. parties. like funerals for the living. watching them die. again and again.  they either don't know. or don't care. so why should i?

the wormhole of flesh. glimpses the future. teases the past. a long division of when. ripe for the singe of now. quiet eyes. postulate. the ratio. of matter to how. the truth is merely a generous lie. a heavy curtain between perception and sight.

i believed i had seen the world. from beginning to end. drugs and marriage and children. a muddy puddle. a dismal highway.

i thought that over was the end. but it lingered for so long. sweat and odor and semen. a thick noose. a reluctant hangman. a lengthy suicide.

if i ever knew, i never knew it enough. the chemistry comes and goes. evolves to suit the holes. the distance varies. the depth insists.

i used to ask him to tell me. how he knew i was. he'd just stare. i used to plead with him to come find me. when i would disappear. he'd just say. we were already there.

piss and vomit and blood. the weak antiseptics we apply to lingering wounds.