Losing Ground

withered edges tease the center. a spiral of contingencies play their variables in rain and piss. the moment blisters. tender with contrition. already spent by wind and sweat.

the road opens wide to swallow us. famished by distance. our journey chokes on the chalk of the wind.

captured by the horizon. divided by miles. separated by inches. alone all the while.

there is no destination. only stops along the way to where we are going.

the end suffers no names.

the grey cuts. tender lips in the darkness weep a murder of thieves. and hungry monsters reveling in their cages made of arrogance and flesh.

the voices are spent. punctures in the absence. gouges in the math. the addition of skin. the division of want. the curve takes us. impotent lions roaring at the wind. the impossible sober of defeat. the war is waged. all that's left is surrender.

the road swallows. the map spits. different paths. all go nowhere. just as they always have.