Unfortunate Blackboards

the broken knob. the spoken gasp. on the margin. the solvent edges collapsing into lost. tired aggressors with too many choices.

the outlines of god. waiting for color. the weapons of war. in worn flannel and spent cigarettes. the perpetaul wilderness of when. a wealthy merchant of desperation. painted. thick in the dense authenticities of skin.

wagered. spent. a corruption of moments. soft hammers in the soil of her panic. the hours clay. the years artists. counting. trying to keep track of the missing steps.

the end doesn't listen. the world still goes on. though she is in pieces, the whole clings to the parts.

the monsters stumble. a simple engine.  the villains fail. gravity shrugs. the witch is defeated. her eyes are candy. the wolf bites down. the oven opens. there are no heroes in this empty fairy tale. just the stubborn ghosts with keys that unlock nothing. and names they can't take with them.

the ladder shrinks. the fiction stabs. there are moments. all of them are borrowed. there are words. knots in the corpses. loose threads betray the depths of her needle.

it's dark. an amity of words. it's quiet. a corruption of want. melted candles against the fever of god.  there is panic. the poetry of lost. in dwindling pills and narrow utopias.