Mortal Accuracies.

Chaos overshadows us.
Unsheltered sorrow shuts upon us.
We are strangled by bitter light and unnecessary flashes.
Our bones shake like sticks.
We snap
occasionally bend.
We grope.
We find our lost remote.
We give up and go dry.
We say hello and how do you do.
Our tongues turn black and say things we don’t want it to.
All day is endless.
Nights endless.
Our skin crawls, it cracks, it gets old.
Our room teases us like a kitten, then grows tired of us and the people we bring into it.
Our hope is a noose.
We take our flesh in our teeth.
We are strained and fall.
We are hung in a void.
We are shattered on the ocean.
We are smeared in the darkness.
We are slit and drained out.
Little things drink us.
We drink little things and we
drink because little things drive us to drink.
We lie unburied.
We are dust.
We know nothing,
We cannot answer questions.
We will speak no more.
BUT WE WILL NOT STOP.
We carve pumpkins and chew chicklets.
We have been instructed to call this His love.