Salt and Vinegar

the hours stumble over the remains of our thoughts. 

no more nervous adjectives to tangle our breath. 


the narrative chokes on its fading protagonists. 

the end switftly asserts itself. 


time is an infinite passageway. 

teeming with open doors. 


i aksed her name as she stroked the sharpest corner. 

she polished the edge as its razors ripened. 


we screamed at gravity. 

as the world came tumbling down.