The Ugly Arithmetic

sometimes we are simple. others we are complex.

easily manipulated by the various creases in our skin.

we chew on the soiled pillows that cover our unmade beds.

twisting on the cusp of love's diluted poisons.

feral opportunists on epiphany's shrinking stage.

unaware that time is a promise that can't be kept.

i could almost say you loved me. but that simply can't be true.

can a thief love what he's stolen. can a predator love what he's killed.

sometimes the math lies to us. and pretends that there's something left.