the cold unfurls. a gentle beast. we press the wind. with empty pens and broken keys. liars full of truth. sinking. in the quicksand that is each moment. ready to suffocate. commanding the precipice. content to fall.
forgetting the little snares. ignoring the minor predators. solving the road in pebbles and twigs. the way we first found it. how it last discovered us.
the raindrops weighted. the sun always borrowed. as we chase our dwindling horizons.
it’s not the weather. nor time. needles threading the void. slopes altering the force required to push.
it’s our choices. how they’ve spent us.