the hours coalesce. thick with journeys half completed. the seldom becomes frequent. complicit with choices. we stall. on the edge of the sun. pumping gas into dead engines.
the world is ugly, yet we find the beauty in it. dismissing the cold in our quest for summer.
the anchor drops. and we orbit the void. as it grows to consume us. we struggle to breathe against the weight of the shock.
i always knew. though i was unaware. the mountain was always there. it was the top that remained unclear.
the basket fell open. the treats tumbled out. it wasn’t the wolf i feared. it was how easily it infliftrated.