Spoiling in Context

we spent ourselves. all yolk and cream. as circumstance became our most valuable commodity. sipping tomorrow from leaking cups.

running up and down rotting staircases. pretending to go somewhere.

our elastic hearts stretched taut. our coal cities burning.

we pretended to understand. the angles as they manipulated. the give of the paper. the heft of the ink. as all our words unravelled.

we counted the days. as forever discarded us.

the future would arrive in small doses. the cold medicine of evolution's architecture. curing us slowly. as the dead become lessons.

small or large. we have no genuine way to measure our weight. by ego? by arrogance? by the small things that so easily destroy us?

the storm moves in. we close the shutters. we shout at  the wind.

still the world  remains unconvinced.

we are anything deeper than paper cuts on the fingers of the universe.