Delinquent Correspondence

torn pockets flirt with gravity. 

the distance already convinced that we've gone too far. 

simple equations swallow our voices. forgetting puckers its graves. 

we live in the corners. stabbing the void. waiting for the light to speak.

the little lies that we spent all our pennies to purchase.  

corroding at the bottom of an empty well. 

every moment culpable in a lingering treason. 

our skin bears the creases. our minds insist the folds. 

time writes its lessons in our blod. 

tangled puppets pull on their strings. 

the end comes without applause.