Timeless, terrifying tesselations cover the crisp azure sky in code. Reading me like a book, my man graces me with a bouquet of fallen leaves. Over the maple tree, a halo dripping with honey. My bifurcated biography is going to drip with orange Autumn, coalescing in spooky pools of spectres at my feet.
Day: September 5, 2026
Human History
Harvesting heroes from an alluvial plane of flooding horrors, Noah in a row boat with his wife and one rabbit. This world is hell’s foreplay. Extinct, I haunt the museums of old. Man has forgotten his speech and yells pitifully at the sun who cooks him in cancer. Nothing good survives Destiny with a laser gun. In empty museums, human history is recited to the disdainful dust.