arms tremble wickedly with potential futures. kittens in a barrel. eager to be drowned. subtle monsters cahnges us. for better or worse is anyone's guess. the sun pretends to shine. all through the winter. though it remains dark outside.
proctors and surrogates peddles their stories to wishing wells long since dried up. moments displaced. the physics of humanity. more theory than evidence. a slave to the whims of time. a rat in the mazes of its scars.
sleep whispers. a fairy tale of abandomed children and the witches that would consume them. forsaking the words for stronger drugs. torn maps acting the architect to desolate worlds. reluctamt barters between panties and cunt.
the height of the wave. a shadowy parable of when. the tempest of time. attempting to be linear. when lost in so many circles.
she could almost change them. manipulate the conditions to fit the constraints of panic. coy brusies. tease the ache. flaunt their portraits on an empty canvas.
the art is in the disease. the submission to the sickness.
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