hurtx2

"It's feeding time for lunar satellites." Smoke escapes from cracked, parted lips, and trails into the glistening sky. "A red moon says more than you'd think." Footsteps, blinkers, falling raindrops, the inconsistent meter of laughter. Natural polyrhythms of 2 over 3, 3 over 5, 5 over 7. "Mythology, but fiction's more than fate." The floor was deep, and the sky was oil. And an air of poisoned lager (but so many tiny rocks). "Tribal glorifications set the table." The heavens torn open, like a celestial cervix at The Rape of Nanking. "…not the hands of the cosmos." Oh sweet transparent blue. Ripped apart limb by limb. "And n