there is agency in the perpetuity of skin. a panicked cacophony of choices that we conflate with consent.
we falter under the breadth of our convictions. curious flowers in a stilted garden.
the world is smooth and bright. even as we close our eyes against the flood.
though the water isn't deep enough to drown us. its currents easily pull us under.
there are doors we keep locked up tightly. in our softest places. defiant markers that prove who we've been.
we wear these fragile costumes. even as their colors wither away.
charmed by the temporary paradise of thieves.
abandoned flesh chokes on its hunger for new inhabitants.
dirty claws scratch at the gallows.
time's delicate assassins gather their nooses.
gravity smiles.
as the ground slips away.
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