how lost are we in our simple mazes. sinking fast under the tread of change.
chasing each wall in earnest. obedient assassins in a murder of choices.
the ugly came and went. only the corpses remained.
the edge pursed its lips and declared that we had fallen off of it.
passing off our panic to all the little hurricanes under our skin.
little dogs in wolf's dens. circumventing the apex.
i couldn't wait for his flesh to catch fire again. when mine had already been incinerated.
names change. skies collapse. but touch is a truth that never falters.
we lie. and say we've learned. how deep the chasm goes.
but the truth is.
there are no numbers that can measure the weight of nothing.
Filed under: August 2024 Poetry