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chop

by Halvardan

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Lam2_v2 03:46
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EDIT2404 03:12
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moses supposes he growses a flower keeping to himself that he notices the hours slipping by hosing his posies and acting like he's not feeling sour down and out how can he remember that it's only a pout without your mouth the power over your own self goes south a crowded south reminds me of a place in my old age where now was never and power had no cage heart-ache premade staying up late feeling so sane now that can't be right the bed bugs don't bite my parents don't fight but one day i might one day you might i'll set the stage you turn up late you always run late you always run late you always the forget the plans that we made the plans that we made i don't want to hate
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sobstory 02:21
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1986Feb 03:05
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mr.wippy 01:53
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nest_VIP 01:38
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Lam 04:28
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An unhatched Man, hatched at last, caught sight of Fate. She stood by a sapling in solitude in a vast field of barren green. The moon illuminated her perfect diamond skin, evaporating her fragrance across the firmament. Her scent so filled with love, so filled with malice, according to hearsay at least; with fields stretching forever it's nigh impossible to come so close as to even catch a glimpse of such exquisite perfume. In the final distance you could notice a swarm emerging with enough attention. And I tell you now - if you ever so fortunate to witness such as I see now you would have no choice but to pay attention. Everybody had the same idea. All this etched in to the watching eyes of the now-hatched Man was too great a memory. The oily mouth of God should have swallowed it all, but still the man stood still. One step forth quickly lead to a sprint, one leg extending in front of the next. A metre evolved in to a mile, seconds became years. The Man's very being shredded in the wind. Craters formed in the valleys of his. The Man sunk eternally to the deepest trench, sentenced by Fate to become unhatched forever once more.

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released November 30, 2018

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R. P. Downie Melbourne, Australia

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