Words are delicate weapons, but can kill just the same. Time whispers. In eager numbers. And broken equations. We’re only lost when we’re looking for somewhere we’ve never been.

every war is started by cowards and finished by the brave.

the body is a currency measured in blood and scars.

the edge took its time getting to know us. shallow cuts broken umbrellas.

while we picked at the scabs. chewed on the gristle.

hungry enough to want whatever was left on the plate.

but still not desperate enough to swallow it.