A wind chime twinkles while dogs bark at a dirt brown sky. The warning winds reclaim the Earth, unpleasantly advertising something unintelligibly bad. Humanity says: Leave a message. We are hobbled, illiterate, subjected to translated signs of possible impending doom 40,000 years old, Or, put another way, Domestication. Who speaks primal signs? Not dogs… Man’s best link to living has lost its language too. Although, The trees bent by violent skies paired with huddled birds grounded, robbed of flight outside, Speak sounds liberated from language that blinds the eye with tears like the dirty wind shitwhipping the porch. This is the rising action of a performative life, but there’s still time for things to be how they are, the same: Dull, Dead, And Deaf. — Darkness came next and ate the sky with rolling rain that wet the dirty wind, muddying messages postmarked 3600 light-years away. Or, put another way, old beginnings Far away from life on Earth.
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