ellisfac (sentinel & enterprise)

Like coffin green on iron white, like fucking up when I mean it.
In the image of a flesh contrite and the flashing of a minute –
Come upon me, now. I see it.
Man is an aspect of dust, dirt at its most destructive;
For creation to stir from a hand it must bleed,
For the courage to cut through another it seems
We are brave and despairingly weak. We embrace it.
The more primitive tongues are the ones we have
Most trouble speaking, and yet – we’ve replaced them
With god and the like, worship and wishing that
All things must die, all things keep returning.
Like defence in a manner of act, eternally present
And inspiring. The end forced into a beginning.

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