misplace

So the arrow flies blind, so the day goes dark, so the bets are settled and debt let go. It is beggar's portions and steely mercies, the thankless tasks and the pretty songs. The time was lost before I wasted it, plastic keys and open wounds. The prayer shawl persuasions and the devotion of Job. Even the ache is a small one, bound to be devoured before it is mistook. Even the imagined romance ought to be beaten to death.

I lean into this sickness that assures my solitude, watching the street lights as they flicker. Watching the trees as they dance. Flecks of stars and tail-lights. Other people's music for another people's world. The songs all leave me, just as the dusk leaves me, just as all momentum fades. I stare into the box of damaged goods, I stare into the abyss of pure dumb menace. A rusted hatchet and an old shotgun. Every inevitable inkling seems to end in crime.

Empty cans chime at the reaching. Empty walls slow even the spiders. The dust can not wait to overtake these passings. The dust only wishes to swallow up all struggle, to remove every proof from this place. It won't take long at the rate I am going. Never with anyone and never alone. Never at ease, even with my own peaceful moments. Legion always muttering away behind the curtain. The swarms waiting to peel the blue from the sky.