They speak to me and tell it all.

I can’t stand, blinding is all.

\I see billions die.

A blight of sensation. All we are is sensation.

The everlasting shining of silver gods

They smile and talk and carry the soul over desert death.

Subtle drown and reverse, into the inorganic.

A mechanism for life.

A virus of building. The making and beginning.

The hipocracy of breaking down.

To slay your keeper to be your keepers keeper.

Such sadness. It’s only the ashes.

A filtered dream of mortal cogniscence.