we listened quietly to time's remaining growls. the price of trust steadily rising. we stabbed. claws embedded in skin too shallow. narcissists swept away in the pandemonium of touch.
the rabbit runs on crippled feet. as the hunt leads it back to its beginning.
the distance grows impatient as we fuss over the numbers.
fractions of tomorrow tell their stories in our bodies.
paper left out in the rain.
it was a tenuous consent. trust's dull blade poised to drag open all that dead flesh.
we beat the world with our heavy hammers. we sold ourselves to the highest bidder.
it was a lingering storm. to navigate love's fetid cartography.
the distance told its tales. making us the villains. in stories we dared not tell.
it was a glorious flood. bursting with everything that ought to undo us.
we were ready to drown.
but then came the sun.
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