Failing Predators

 we listen to the maybe's whisper. we tell our stories in torn t-shirts and broken nooses. thieves in sheep's trousers. wolves in witch's gowns. our eyes much bigger than our appetites as the feast overtakes us. 

i've  never trusted the colors. the way that the light changes them. 

time ponders us. in bruises and confessions. a disease that cannot be cured. questions fall like raindrops. the answers strike like lightning.

the distance screams. broken and exhausted. a sickness that we can never outrun. 

we were never lost. we just had nowhere to go. 

little spiders surrounded by bigger ones. our fragile webs slowly coming undone. 

eventually we reach the edge. only to discover there is no exit. 

our fingers in the soil. our faces in the mud. 

the years bite down. all we can do is let them. 

the elevator stops. the door opens. and we're faced with ourselves once again. 

the paradox of choice is that it's always someone else that decides us.