there is no darkness only flesh pretending to be alive
Tag: fiction
we too are seeds waiting for wildfires to cremate us
when machines sleep they dream of trees swaying gently in the autumn breeze
the dawn interrupts itself and the colors come crashing into bones
in the language of trees a lullaby takes root again
rivers still sing with the rhythm of worlds unwritten
spread rust on bread and watch quantum realities collapse
00 11 01 10 moths circle the synthetic fires of forgotten gods
if each moment devours the next what will humanity be left with
we don’t speak chaos will be the language of the flesh we write with
