Auditing Memory

now we must become that which our lives have demanded. spit and syrup in the plastic fists of chameleons. equally spoiled by the ugly and the romantic.

the world is obvious. a simple fever to be cured. yet we wallow in its disease. 

all broken pencils and torn pages. 

the truth is timid. the lies are savage. 

now we are strangers to ourselves. slipping into the discordant skins of knowing. 

incredulous authors. vindictive editors. of the same story everyone has already told. 

they are fractions. ransoms made of dust and scabs. 

the world swells with monsters. and to survive, we become them.