Broken Patterns

salvage the turn. stark echoes in submission. quantum loops and fetid variables. barriers in condition. skin coming undone. the brink. like empty boxes covered in ribbons and bows. the end. a hollow theater. all the actors whispering

chasing the stories. stumble and choke. the disease of want terminal. her soiled pillow sleeps close to her fear. bare terminals tease the electricity from tepid adjacents.

anticipating solid arcs. the conundrum is diffusion. flesh like onion skin. and stabbing eyes eager to trace. time is a mutiny against the individual. life is a fraction best convinced by pebbles and dust. either alone or together we are still and always separate. moments possessed by broader patterns.

layers. arrogant swine. in houses made of brick. taunt the wolf. measure the truth in steps from the edge.

long ago i would name them. curious victims in a relentless collage of murders. the woods. the breadcrumbs. a thin path. convinced it knows us.

she would count. manipulating the molecules. certain she was close enough to god. or far enough away from everything else.