Why it Doesn't Matter

It never did.

There were too many of them.

The sunlight had a buttery feeling.

Words were not enough.

You had dropped the glass into pieces.

Blood came readily.

Those times when you lost everything.

Value before virtue.

The tenderness of terror.

A grave desire for sleep.

The way you imagined it would be.

Twice with the first error, thrice with the second.

A lack of balance.

Cautionary tails, and the deer disappeared, tail last.

Versions of virgins.

Piddling issues not relating to piddling.

Portion control instead of abstinence.

The scent you could not remember deeply enough to forget.

Simply the numbers.

Accumulations of sadness.

Eraser crumbs.

Desultory intentions.

Meaningful lack of direction.

A lungful cry.

Barriers and haywire.

Bread broken but set aside.

The empty plate.

The loneliness of the knife.

Butter turned putrid.

Pills on each of your sweaters, even the red one.

Syringes but not syrinxes.

Humble bravado.

All manner of misdirection.

The beating of.

Crying of the lambs.

Forty-nine other reasons.

Minced eyes.

Conduits without purpose.

It all ends anyway.


ecr. l'inf.