there was a course made in the wreckage. a course. a track of predestined points that are run by those who fight for these things. to be the fastest or most efficient in clearing.
two siblings are fighting on a patch of grass where once the ship had come down. they’ve struck each other with clubs. their fight is over who finished first. who bested who. each strike on the other’s flesh makes blood streak bruises on a joined cell make up.
entagon and redeader, the thousand mile stares of the hallogen field, were children when the core of the great rotator crashed down onto the planet and began burrowing into the crater it made.
around that crater today we see a course, a complex, a centre. relaxation and competition. perfectly cut grasses and sports played on top of them.
the two contend alongside each other with a burning metal soul melt stare. how, out of two, do you pick one? the threat of the orbit is its potential to become misaligned, to weaken, to send the perfect geometry into a death spiral.
when the thing fell it killed a couple million, its effects killed millions more. that was about forty years ago. the planet had been cleared of its surface poisons effectively and honestly go there now and tell me its not better.
honest. its paradise now, good sports, green lawns, the well known siblings of professional reality. before it was what, people, en masse, living in their own degradation.
tell me that it’s not more pure to have people who accept their position use this space rather than those that can’t figure out the death trap they are locked into. tell me you aren’t glad to not see pain. to not see worthless toiling. to not see exploitation.
tell me that you don’t see in the orbit of two perfect bodies around each other, locked into celestial combat something more beautiful than broken.
tell me you’re not the killer. go on. beautiful boy. tell me you’re a perfection god. I’ll throttle you with what you really want. you want a clear ground and a hopeful lover. so take up your spot here. beautiful boy don’t cry about the dead moon, it’s now or never for your eternity pleasure. beautiful girl there will never be another chance to forget. please lay here with me. on the course. i want to watch you melt into a diamond.
parasite moon where did you plant your seed. it’s writhing and crawling out of me. LEAVE ME HERE TO SHOUT BEAUTY INTO THE GROUND. LET ME TRAMPLE ON THE GRAVES OF THE MILLIONS. ACHE ACHE ACHE OR DIE. YOU PASSIONLESS BEASTS WHO CALL ME A SINNER. ACHE AND WEEP AND THEN SHATTER INTO A TWO SUN SYSTEM. I WILL FUCK BOTH OF YOU INTO NOTHING.
The explosion of the golf cart on the course was legendary. The destruction of the siblings.
GlitchOut 