Aren’t We Natural? Do flies ask why corpses stare at sky while flowers feed on flowing blood? Greed floods the plain. We remain the same, destruction our game; we are the flame and the ash, food for the fruit tree, honey from the bee.

to Matriarchy i look forward to my non-existence being the fruit of my orchard, a taste, sweet and juicy, on un-kissed lips, shaping words of Love and Freedom.

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