Conditional Reality

You arrived long after the cooling events. So late to the party, most of the revelers gone, now all you see is the stilled flesh before you. You’ll cut into it, just to tell people you were here. Isn’t that a little too much? Who are you? Others have been here without the need for cutting. All they left were footprints. Ghost impressions of their hooves, claws, and feet. Sometimes that was more than enough. And now you. Etching the spirits. Grinding the stilled magma. Hoping to take some of the life with you. Dust in your deep, lonely pockets.

Labels: Excerpts