Daisy-Rose: First draft for SST11

20 May

sorry for the late post been having some family stuff..
I’d like to make an animated movie poem ..

Why don’t we all pretend it’s not happening.
There was no whole no exchange of energy,
to become flesh I never left me alone on a hill at the monsters will.
I do not have another half waiting alone in a lake outside this room of flesh.
We are not gods of gigantic preportion.
We are empty shells on anorexic decent.
We are no longer decent,
life isn’t giving back what was taken.
The trick of the contract with death
To contact into grounded gut
and feed myself of myself indefinitely.
This cycle replicates inside the bees,
secrets of conception.
Where do they come from,
naked flowy remarkedly care free.
Maybe it hurt to be,
So I gave my pain to it and it gave this life to me,
It’s parcelling the pain back up.
It’s had enough of being the carer of a broken planet,
it’s breaking plates against walls.
Resolution with its self’s.
The screaming gut of nothingness inside of everybody’s else.
I watches from from the sight eyes the bodies it’s inflated.
Hoping to find appreciation in our grasping creation,
we breathe loss for all we’ve gained.
But never got.
One implying the others complications we have slowed down we are medication.
It watches it’s self in mirrors keeping one eye right fixed in the past.
Wants this thing it gives away.
It has nothing to exchange and is alone as the only being in its state.
The orbital eye of energy exchange looks into the mirror
and realises it’s sat there with you in your brain.
It’s says hello.


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