turn in

tales too gruesome
for primetime
too rigid
for time bending
stream from
squeaky clean assholes

scorpion tails
stunned inside an
escape hatch
disguised as a
lonely fuck

curiosity illuminates
desolate paths
in soft pink
tossing shadows
over cobalt pitfalls
suggesting promises
across burnt ends

unarmed and mapless
hope changes color
unrecognizable amid
shape-shifting despair

underneath
missing guarantees
find no disclaimer
ruses shatter
behind shrouded mirrors
meaningless gazes
and cryptic love songs

let fear brim at
the latch
falling shut,
let hearts break
as ways out
turn in