Soft flesh is eaten by hard teeth.

I wonder how well she sleeps at night, and what kind of dreams she has. I wish I could step into them like she steps into mine.

Even in my bravest moment, I am a coward.

We're fumbling in the dark, but at least we're in motion.

I think for a minute. Watching my wife fade into the distance, I put a hand on my heart. "Dead." I wave a hand toward my wife. "Dead." My eyes drift toward the sky and lose their focus. "Want it...to hurt. But...doesn't." Julie looks at me like she's waiting for more, and I wonder if I've expressed anything at all with my halting, mumbled soliloquy. Are my words ever actually audible, or do they just echo in my head while people stare at me, waiting? I want to change my punctuation. I long for exclamation marks, but I'm drowning in ellipses.

I want to change my punctuation. I long for exclamation marks, but I'm drowning in ellipses.

We eat and sleep and shuffle through the fog, walking a marathon with no finish line, no medals, no cheering.