04-09-2021, 11:07 PM
A fleeting capability to dominate the wind is the first and last creature remaining in the womb of prehistory. It is like the fading shadow of someone rising past the sound of your window. You'll catch an incubated glimpse in the dark of someone's morning. If you're quick enough, you might wake up to the seed of the grotesque.
Sleep has left your ears and your existence. You might hear the floating motion of one creature that lived a frightening tour-de-force, that survived as others faded. Things begin to die on the horizon. You may see eruption and fire and flood, or volcanic wings passing through the ages of adaptability, an open meadow into this irradiated world where came an unexpected survivor, a distant pair of footsteps where all others stagger and fall.
Primeval planet earth is an arena of continual contest scorched by something I'm not sure is oxygen. It's only me pursuing an atmosphere lacking day, frozen by night where only the nets of love and deadly elusive butterfly rays are found. My continual bombardment of dreams will not harm you. I chase a silent sun.
I believe in each footstep’s echo as I believe in you. I’ll tell it once softly, I’ll tell it to you in terms you might have heard in an insane generation to come, my new experiments that no one likes to hear about. I might have to inherit your mind. I’ll tell it to you simply, I’ll tell about the distant canyons where I ran searching after something, a shape and function transforming every species into limitless spectres.
You might have seen me guarding a dead bee. That was me running through the lives of gruesome robots, the long-abandoned ruins of your dreams of destruction.
It’s only me. I have inherited the sum total of what will not harm you. Just enough to glide past you is all I ask. I have followed a program where none will shelter me, pursuing something I'm not sure will come into this world possessing the knowledge you remember in your lifetime. None will teach me to be concerned, to be unnoticed and unloved like the rest of the body.
The life it had was bright and elusive and its dreams split my skin, extruding my pathetic remnant with wornout convulsions, an alien with no resemblance to your sleeping form, a creature of wonder with the hours of an incomplete butterfly. Will you wonder why?
Sleep has left your ears and your existence. You might hear the floating motion of one creature that lived a frightening tour-de-force, that survived as others faded. Things begin to die on the horizon. You may see eruption and fire and flood, or volcanic wings passing through the ages of adaptability, an open meadow into this irradiated world where came an unexpected survivor, a distant pair of footsteps where all others stagger and fall.
Primeval planet earth is an arena of continual contest scorched by something I'm not sure is oxygen. It's only me pursuing an atmosphere lacking day, frozen by night where only the nets of love and deadly elusive butterfly rays are found. My continual bombardment of dreams will not harm you. I chase a silent sun.
I believe in each footstep’s echo as I believe in you. I’ll tell it once softly, I’ll tell it to you in terms you might have heard in an insane generation to come, my new experiments that no one likes to hear about. I might have to inherit your mind. I’ll tell it to you simply, I’ll tell about the distant canyons where I ran searching after something, a shape and function transforming every species into limitless spectres.
You might have seen me guarding a dead bee. That was me running through the lives of gruesome robots, the long-abandoned ruins of your dreams of destruction.
It’s only me. I have inherited the sum total of what will not harm you. Just enough to glide past you is all I ask. I have followed a program where none will shelter me, pursuing something I'm not sure will come into this world possessing the knowledge you remember in your lifetime. None will teach me to be concerned, to be unnoticed and unloved like the rest of the body.
The life it had was bright and elusive and its dreams split my skin, extruding my pathetic remnant with wornout convulsions, an alien with no resemblance to your sleeping form, a creature of wonder with the hours of an incomplete butterfly. Will you wonder why?