soldiers of when leverage their battles. in drizzle and in thunderstorms. the important moments are all corners. everything is guraded and sharp.
we don’t know, but we try to learn. faltering in our hungry curiosity. so ripe with desire. bruising at the slightest pressure.
the words betray. victims themselves.
the tragedy suits me. it always has. there’s too much to want. not enough to believe.
the ladder falls. leaving everything out of reach.
the flesh is patient. determined in its accumulation of scars. but the head stumbles. collecting gravity like badges of courage.
i want to be hopeless again. so confident in my despair.
absolute zero approaches. everything forgets. decaying particles thread their way into the equation. the past bends. much softer than i remember it could.
small bridges remain open. bartering their dwindling depths.
in love there are always predators. both outside and within.
i listen. hearing your voice for the first time. the past disappearing like fading footprints.
there is the chemistry. the fundamental science of flesh. a fickle magician inside our heads.
there are the miles. the long series of footsteps. the places we’ve been and those that have been us.
it began the same as it always does. a downpour we found ourselves caught in. it happened. as is customary. urgent and with little regard for how much it would cost. it was only how it ended that ever belonged to us.
the miles accumulate. cold lessons in reality’s agenda. the distance relents. pausing briefly to allow me to measure. the breadth and the weight of the ghosts in my head.
i’m not weak, but you’d never know it.
you’re strong. i can see that. it frightens me somehow.
the days scrape the sun. the nights slouch through the darkness. a heavy repetition. left waiting on a fading promise.
i have your words, but it’s your touch i miss.
i have your head, but it’s your heart i want.
the body whispers. the voice relents. as they chase the pause. with an open fist. and an empty palm. to negotiate the perpetuity of loss.
it wasn’t easy. letting the outlines find their depths.
he said there were moments. but the years contradicted the ebb of his want.
there were corners. dimensions that knew more than we could admit. there were ample edges on which to get caught.
there were lies. the kind that the heart fiercely defends. there were truths. tender and accusing.
maps in the flesh ripe with a paradise lost.
fragments of when. particles of how. touch like waves crashing into skin.
the moment is ignited and i go up in flames.
it’s delicate. like a first kiss. it’s gorgeous because it’s broken.
all the monsters. all the villains. whispering under my skin.
the miles stutter. the distance quickens. the flesh is a souvenier in a carnival of choices.
i wither. spoiling in my deference.
never to know what might have been.
the rain listens loud enough to hear us whisper. envelopes of flesh. sealed. delivered.
the distance was prominent. all claws and snickers. the years were evident. repetitious songs and frayed parallels in the growing wake of time’s abyss.
i said it hurt. i thought i did.
and waited for the bandage.
eventually it came. it did. but by then, the blood had already congealed.
we screamed at each other through the smiles on our faces. angry children clutching our toys’ shattered pieces.
we said it didn’t hurt. even though it did.
all too eager to bleed again.
edges come into focus. shifting planes and vascilating resistance. choice’s dull blade failing to cut.
narrow corners tease perspective. coins in the air. and cement footprints. shallow wells. deep buckets.
the heart is a jest. a crippled tyrant in a throne made of venom.
the chemistry betrays. the moment chokes on its own intent. broken zippers on words never said.
the crux of the world waiting. in its heavy robes. in its marvelous nakedness. the apple with pierced skin boldly boasting its spoiling meat.
the creases formed. easily manipulating skin. the words bled. deep wounds hungry for bandages.
afterwards we were silent.
the intersections barked. intimacy a rabid predator. the hunt gnashed its teeth and we were gladly devoured.
we shuffled closer to the edge. eager to fall.
arrogant patrons of gravity’s whims. it was easy. to embrace the fever. let the sickness resolve to treason.
once all the moments had expired. gambled away in a long and ambivalent betrayal. only cheap tokens of our loss remained.
temptation stroked its scars. but there were other cuts to heal.
the road whispers. the distance shouts. the ugly wind presses. the wounded bridge couches its limp. afterward she warns. as the moment seethes and blisters. everything being angles. all the intersection calculated. in the tremble of the smallest insect. and the epiphany of all those empty places.
it chases. the scent of strays. the hunger of when. the sullen parcel of open doors. the heavy arithmetic of fading steps.
liars she loved. and the ones that failed to convince. all the same in the end.
delicate poisons written in flesh. the simple surrenders of yersterday. like broken strings. on balloons that floated away.
we suffer. the grim appraisals of bone and blood. students of the hour. theieves at auction. lessons rarely learned.
value is relative. dependent almost exclusively upon demand. subject to all the fickle whims of both reason and madness.
the distance submits. a magnificent surrender. and we are driven further by the victory.
the darkness is parted. the wind is ignored. choices become us. beautiful diseases. such as the rarefied freedoms of the privileged and the loved.
muscles speculate on how much farther they can take us. but the edge has already spent our blood.