pressures

predetermined irrationality

running in guns blazing with no idea where here is

crash the servers

dine and dash

rehash the systemic relapse

gene rejuvenation symphony

ear mark funds for theraputic restoration of nerve damaged inclinations

she sits nervously fingering her oboe, this is her first big show since the accident, as the chimes send gentle tinkles through the hushed theatre, her signal, her arms are locked rigid, she can’t catch her breath, panic sets in

retread the rhetorical

this danse macabre set for two

a candle burns in the center of the table

a wilted rose hangs it’s head in defeat in stagnant water

the stairs seem steeper than her memory of them, and there are more of them as well, she’s been climbing for the last fifteen minutes, thirteen stairs, thirteen flights, ever upwards towards her doom

bitter remains slide across tenative tongues

contemplating infinity

recalculating physics

gravity fluctuates in pulsating waves

of copper and coolants

whispers in the night

this isn’t how she imagined it would end, not with a bang but a whimper, cast down by her own dispersions, wracked with guilty what if scenarios, crippled by the past tendencies, her future in seconds not years

rusty hinges on the bear trap

concise cutting action

eighty foot pounds of pressure snapping

she dealt with far worse

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