Feeding Toothelss Wolves

stubborn storms violate the wind. fickle warriors with their knotted swords and melted armor. these are simple wars. that get complicated by the dead.

she draws like she did as a child. her paper pressed to the glass. chasing the world outside in stabs of pencil. shapes and frictions. her empty gods and hollow prayers. the art of sadnesss. the resonance of skin. the chemistry of voices. numbers to fill. and hemorraghing buckets. as the mountain persues. the fallen stones.

failing lovers leave their blank kisses on the edge of the bed. a slow creak. a passive shadow. teases the moon. as it fumbles with the needle. presses the night deeper. in beautiful drops of oblivion. time is manipulated by flesh. in decimals and scabs. the wounds persue us. into the future and the past. friends in the cloaks of strangers. pawn their empty heavesns.

soft storms settle upon the skin in whispers and confessions. alone trembles. as it digs this road. shallow graves consent their corpses. as we travel each other. in an avalanche of intimacy and regret.