Writings to Our Mother III | Page 21

|-\_/\_/-| as paranoia slides, \ smoke swirling air parts. A wake in ‘nothing’, life formats and follows revealing slender red shadow. Crouched on three legs \ the bleeding sound motion motions forward. Beyond me. I see a drone  human? No,  machine - No,  human - soar through savage landscapes of bestiality : asbestos and concrete blown-out through hinges. - though for why does it baffle, a complex ambassador? - oh bother, you are inferior. - oh brother, I am inferior. I am afraid. I am afraid of death. I am afraid of the absence. I am afraid of any fractional number larger than [point] seven two. An arpeggiator crumbles, tearing new highways straight from our eyes to the next largest city’s exit freeway. Fresh produce costs so much these days and I am forced. I am forced to live, - she says [and though half jokingly, her words hold more truth than you may think]. A shooting star emancipates. The brief flash will bring - happiness? No, sorrow - a yearning for the magic that is so rare. I see yellow house painters and blue scooters torn up as the wind settles in - as the failure makes apparent - as the wind settles in. By Sid Baron 21