macbastard

Rain stars sky trees. Sand salt wind earth. soil rock mold breath. blood skin tears thought.


so it rolls on and on, the developing history of what shall be in a pre determined plan of what was, taking us all by delightful suprise.

I lift my head and hear the gulls solem cadence and tear into life like the wind at my buckles. Such a feast has never been had by any. Though I repet the sensious meal that people have been devouring since before memory.

I join my ancestors at an unseen dining table and together and alone I live what they wont and enjoy what they did. I hate what they loved and loved what made them wince.

And for all this, I cannot wait for dessert....


Machappymeal