tomorrow quietly limped away. no war. no epiphanies. just time ruthlessly spending flesh. vacant veins. broken bridges. all the callous math of having lived.
there are no stories to tell. no roads left to find. only the sun as it disappears into the horizon. only the years that we race to catch. no matter how far behind we’ve fallen.
nimble needles on the cusp of penetration.. tugging on hope’s slender threads as they continue to fray.
the hours an anchor. the years a river. we drift. we sink we swim.
we press the button. thinking they’ll let us in. but those doors seldom open. and those windows rarely break.
let it rain she told herself. as the storm came into focus. let the clouds make it dark. let the weather boast its havoc.we’re better when we’re broken.
some things never change.
we’ll always be small. in a world much too vast. we’ll always be shouting at a deaf universe.