Sitting in the Gardens of Vextro

written while playing Gardens of Vextro, a chain of 8 games from vextro

down down and dirty, into the layers, tunneling. to destroy by choice. you can leave at any time, most times. the light. i imagine a bloody grip and a withering instantly, as soon as you pull it out.

all the rooms in the place and no one there to tell about it, we drank the juice from the flower and made our parents happy, mad, sad and gone. yours, all yours, of course. you you and yours.

a big rush to the end. we dive like asteroid through asteroid, like thing through thing and obliterate on the search for more coin. obliteration party starting in three.

sinflower and the blue bugly grouchy. get from the dungeon. a third dimensional future, flower power engaged.

huh… the walls are shrinking hugely. Who is the goer of home, who are these people PISSING us off, why not stay. the walls stay shrinking and we are women. keep looking in the mirror and leave.

outlined in water, kid rolling in new smell, death written in mud heart kichen, hold on to the rooms and let them crush down the word holding. holding my own hand as i roll graveside and passionate.

after the intrusion of majesty falling down into the undercarriage of institution and seeing all my blood there. there is visciousness in the changing and melting nylon kiss between severed petals.

rotation in the final zone, my eyes bug out and i have three deadly weapons. what did we bury here. what did i dig up. layers of my skin all newish, and strangely framed, plant textured.

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