Bloodsweatpissmeat


Here I thought I were made of sand and bone like those around me. No. I am lighting-struck sand. A book of glass, spilling all of my readers' blood.

My head tilted back, eyes to the sky. When I look up I see an unending hole into the body of the universe. When I look down I see us: refuse. Bloodsweatpissmeat.

What do you see?

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