More of a question than an answer?
Like a clear, motionless sky, I sprawl into omniscience, breathing question marks into a non-existent sea of cataclysmic rhythm hymn relics. Foreign objects seem to distance themselves from their own internal elves, like a clock without wheels, they inhabit the shelves of our darkest meals. I shall never forget the way it seems when it’s kinda like what it always has been sorta influenced by, whenever it was like similar to what it was to begin with. I can’t explain it any other way. It’s just the nature of this turquoise day. I try to understand why the sky exits the horizon to the disdain of little chickens. I try to melt proper emblems into the mountainside by employing the proper bombardier beetles to be corrosive instigators while simultaneously serving as successors to the insectual throne, which is much coveted by the force-powered, thought-driven, ovoid beings with no prior knowledge of its miniscule implications. Even the praying mantis knows better than to pit thorax against shoe in any kind of worthwhile mimicry charade. Why should humans be the ones to come forth with new technological habitat for the betterment of wildlife, when all that’s needed is to build more subways through the earth’s center to eliminate surface traffic and provide missile silos for the elderly? We must work together to forge new fires, stretching the boundaries of pushed envelopes and shattering preconceived barriers like so many overcome limits.
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