Arguing with How

 the numbers undo us. razors under our breath. dividends in why. a crisis of want. 

our touch full of thieves. our trust sick with debt. 

time pushes its puzzles into our skin. crooked pieces. of shattered images. that no longer fit. 

the colors grieve us. fumbling monsters with our claws torn off. searching for victims in all the wrong places. 

the end is old. much older than us. as our pennies tarnish and our wells dry up. 

our fingers pointing to a place that's always far away. our eyes still adjusting to a deepening darkness. 

we're small still. much smaller than we've ever been. 

counting our footsteps as the edge begins to bite down. 

still believing we can retreat. even after it has swallowed us.