pressed into the soft mud…

we began with you

we ran faster and faster until the primordial sludge was programable

we fed roses and cow dung into one end of a space craft

out came black goo

when I crashed

I took out the last thing I had, my survival knife

Pressed into the soft mud

later on we called it cuneiform 

Blue skies and beaches for days

cliffside that fell into the ocean

don’t build your house above it

at some point our houses started to float even all of the plants look different.

and the politicians all through up their hands and walked away to own their own world.


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