Treacherous Narratives

skin is a story. touch is the protagonist.

time fumbles with its ammunition. the war slithers out of its smile.

i can only see the edge. i can only hear the silence.

the pendulum grazes my confession.

choice opens its fist. revealing the void inside.

we are impatient creatures. full of anemic promises. and tender assassins. 

we live on the points of needles. strangled by the threads they sew.

trust is a charming villain.

and there are no heroes.