Nothingness plagues the streets

And decays the Body.

Delicate pressure deteriorates the 

Delicate surface on which we are grounded.


Existence reeks of instability.

Rain packs the cracks, unfilled by

The Protector, as it tumbles 

Relentlessly from black skies. 


A desperate reaching for more

Drives a wedge between parts of 

The Body, who can’t see that they

Desperately reach for black skies. 


As the wind sweeps litter through

The plagued streets, so lies and half-truths

Are puffed to carry the Body in 

The desired direction,


Barring them from holding real power.

As the mind dictates the nerves,

The Protector guides the Body.

This is freedom.


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