The Names We Give Them

she chased the receding folds. endemic conspirators of lust and ache.

her fingers soft as she struggled to hold. the heavy corpses that filled her memory. 

the beginning is supple. a lush drizzle of tastes. addictive whispers daring us to hear. 

how obvious we are. simple primates in an endless war with conceit. 

blunt knives stalking barren landscapes. 

the middle is dense. all heavy bones and cracked faces.

stumbling predators chasing barbed wire and candy. 

she counted the remains of her identities. uncertain which, if any, were still relevant. 

the end is compensatory. a reverse evolution of sorts. an abrupt bankruptcy of want. 

we are only numbers. swollen in a chaos of strangers. 

contrarians endlessly knocking on the doors of empty houses.