Turn to the Water.
Leaping through the veins of our humanity.
As we fly with fear to the city.
Wallowing in the mud, singing.
******* in the allies.
No privacy here.
Alone in shin high body of infested Fluids.
Above, the others party in the **** night.
Robust and jubilant.
The concrete solidification of our lives.
Living in eternal colors.
Youth crying, laughing.
Crawling over their other half.
Love in mutiny.
Forgotten.
In the summer rain.
Dancing like infants.
Tribal.
The shaman seeks the grass.
He is the portal.
The forgotten mortal.
Of the jade crystals.
Inside he lives in a current.
With his missing part.
Her.
Himself.
The perfect primeval distortion.