Averaging the Void

a seldom war. a constant enemy. the stringent paradigms flesh imposes upon its mortgagees. all satire and betrayal in the most stunning of suicides.

the soft corner. the weight of the shadows as the angle's grip tightens. learning. the frequency of the void. the gentle sting of gravity. ripe with a static of falling.

the room. a kiss. a stale surrender. anxious atoms on their violent path to division.

a brief conflict. the moist of her thighs and the sere of her lips. she wanders. lured by freedom. smothered by distance.

gone too far. always. searching less than finding. the anxious roads that let her bleed. dull needles suckling an already empty vein.

the slowly opening bridges that give way to the tall boats. the quiet lies that convince us to let those strangers in. it's just the wind. stirring its cauldron of spells. it's just life commiting to the edge.

maybe the colors stutter. maybe the words stumble. all truth is the trajectory of alone divided by the velocity of skin.

we are all questions drowning in the mechanics of choice.