Humanity is a cannibalistic flower. We bloom, ever growing in this
canopy of sky and sunshine. We devour ourselves, the bones of those
before us, our brothers and sisters, our neighbors and friends. We are
beautiful, colorful and chaotic. We are roses and dandelions, dancing
and spinning through time and space.
Ever-changing and always the
same. We are complex and simple in our complexities. We are a virgin
and a whore, constantly moving from one body to the next in our hunger.
This hunger is overwhelming, devouring us. In its wake we are transfixed
by the greed and the need. We are sexuality and ritual, cannibals and
whores. Flightless birds on a collision course.
We are a field of
red. Red roses, red poppies, red paint dripping everywhere. Wars divide
us, unite us. We stand alone, but stand together. We pick the flowers
we like best and cut down the others, proclaiming them weeds. It is the
same in every generation. We have our prejudices, our vices. We are
purity and love, beauty and lust.
We are simplistic in our
complex nature. Chaos mating simplicity and complexity in a ritualistic,
cannibalistic and sexual frenzy. We try to escape, but there is no
escaping the self. We find ourselves within the bodies of others, raping
and killing, trying to find the truth in blood. In the end we are
hacked down by the flowers behind us. Each of us weeping that it was not
our time.
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