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betterdays  Jan 2017
sealife
betterdays Jan 2017
white sand
flecked with
blackend seaweed

occasionally
a smooth tumbled pebble

the smell of salt
and iodine

water, whitecapped
as far as the horizon
and beyond

and heat clear crisp heat
drawing and drying sweat
on bodies bronzing

seagulls squabbling
over chips thrown
to a zephyr breeze

and the sound of sea
making love to sand
sealife, in australia
ns ezra Nov 2013
all the birds in your hands go south for the winter
the ones in your mouth flutter and preen
and prepare to nest in mine

the goldfish in your gut skim the water
light and trembling—children at play
darting through intestinal knots

you want to be my boy
you want to flush the mites out
you want to lick my wounds

you want to wipe the old maps clean
youve been under my skin now and you know
there are no dragons, here
Judy Ponceby  Oct 2010
The Deep
Judy Ponceby Oct 2010
Skimming through the water, like a bird on wing.
Feeling the currents flowing, water spilling along my flanks.
Surging into the deep sea, searching for sunken ships,
Lost treasures to those above, merely decrepit scenery below.
Perhaps, more, to the sealife that shelters there.

This fantastic ability, to relate to earth's final mysteries in the deep.
Granted me, through a fluke of nature, gills filtering,
Scales protecting, tail and fins propelling forward
To ever deeper realms.

Hardly noticing the increasing pressures
Feeling tides pulling, seeing unfathomed sea creatures.
Appreciating the beauty and the power of the deep sea.
Triton may reside here, only stories to those above.
But the mysterious, deepness of this realm, begs belief in other gods.

Continuous exploration of this vast world,
Only brings me a small portion of its bounty.
Birth, life, death, cycling forever.
Brilliant design of creatures and systems,
Only glimpsed from above.
Denied to those who seek to categorize and quantify.

Life is not averages, statistics, and clinical review.
Being judged in labs by coated strangers.
Life indeed is deep, resounding, complex in every detail.
Microcosms of universes existing in harmony
Beneath waves brushing the sky.
Cana  Feb 2018
Yesterday
Cana Feb 2018
I swam the sea
Manmade fish with rubber fins and glass eyes
It wasn’t difficult to breath
Quite the contrary
I witnessed wonders of man & mother
Bejewelled sealife amongst statues of stone
Sunken artistry, seaplanes and Poseidon
A lady of rock, the Ocean Atlas
Holding up the sky from beneath the waves.
The Bahama Mama casting a gentle eye over her domain
Tomorrow maybe more.
Went snorkelling amongst the statues of Clifton heritage park. Followed By *** on jaws beach.
Lucien Freeman Dec 2011
Teil I (Part I )

Oh, come and show me,
what life is like without roses,
how a river would run,
with no water for it.

What would it be like,
if we had no sun,
to brighten our day,
not just for us but everyone.

How would the night feel,
if the moon never shined,
the beautiful blue,
the midnight diamond.

Oh, come and show me,
how this world would be,
if birds never sang,
their songs to you and me.

Oh, come and show me,
how it would be,
if animals never roamed,
this world deemed free.

Would the stars still shine,
on a world like such,
their brillant glow,
their peaceful touch.

If the roses never blumed,
would it still be spring,
if it never snowed,
would it still be winter.

Oh, come and show me,
how it would be,
if a waterfall stopped,
moving freely.

If we never rotated,
around the sun,
would the seasons still change,
or would we burn.

If the wind never blew,
across our land,
over the mountains,
and through the sand.

Would there still be a breeze,
that we could feel,
or just our imagination,
making it real.

Oh, come and show me,
how this would be,
if all of this happened,
would you be ready?

Teil II ( Part II )

Oh, come show me,
what is real,
if a mirror was broken,
would it still your reflection reveal.

If you stood outside,
and the sun didn't shine,
just lingered there,
would there still be a shadow.

The beautiful ocean,
the golden sea,
without sealife,
how would that be.

If all we built,
came crashing down,
nothing left,
all on the ground.

Would we be ready,
how would you see,
this world,
how you've made it to be.

What it something so beautiful,
suddenly caught fire,
as soon as you took the time,
to sit and admire.

What if the stars we love,
never shined,
lingered there in the dark,
hanging in the night.

What if we are a moon,
to a bigger planet,
how would that be,
could you withstand it.

Oh, come and show me,
the mountain morning dew,
only if the sun,
would come and go.

Teil III ( Part III )

Oh, how would it be,
if the leaves never fell from the tree,
if the grass never shivered,
from the cold winds breeze.

How would the sky be,
if it were a different color,
no clouds to see,
or covered in darkness.

If rain never fell,
how would anything grow,
what if in a cold winter,
it never snowed.

Oh, come and show me,
this world we live in,
how it is,
and how it could have been.

Oh, come and show me,
what it would be like,
if the sun never rose,
if it never became night.

OH, come and show me,
what you would see,
if the world stopped turning,
would you be ready.

Teil IV ( Part IV )

Oh, come and show me,
what life would be like,
if time suddenly stopped,
the end of our clock.

If there was no music,
would we still dance,
if there was no opportunity,
would there still be a chance.

If we had no soul,
would we still have passion,
if we had no heart,
would we still long for loving compassion.

If the eyes saw,
what they were meant to see,
would we understand,
how it's to be.

If the flowers of spring,
never gave their sweet scent,
would our noses,
still be able to smell it.

If all we thought,
suddenly became right,
if our once peaceful dreams,
woke us with terror in the night.

Oh, come and show me,
this very thin line,
of which we lay upon,
Frozen Time.


By, Lucien Freeman
betterdays Jun 2014
the wavelets,
nibble
at our toes.
as my boy
and i comb
the tideline,
for tiny treasures.
curls blowing,
ever which way
in the salt
tanged breeze.
little hand holds
red bucket,
the
clicksnickclack
of shells
already collected
is a comforting sound.
as we
meander along,
soon we
will turn
and
wander homeward
to warmth
leaving the sealife
to their own
care.....until,
the next time.
on the way home, we stopped at beach... it enriches us both...
now time for chicken noodlesoup(home made)
big bubble bath and bed....
NTR Jan 2018
deep below the crashing waves
that crush the apostles into cliffsides
and way past underwater caves
inhabited by mysterious sealife
somewhere below there are fools' graves
drowned by invisible riptides
And the ocean consumes their remains
indifferent to their demise

and though the living die
the killers still make their living
Even stealing tears from their eyes
the cold depths have no misgivings
And without a chance to say goodbye
The heart of the sea is unforgiving
inspired by http://www.nytimes.com/books/first/p/philbrick-sea.html
and also my friend who is deathly afraid of water
Translucent rain can’t hide behind it.
A necessity for the world.
Brings freshness to this Earth.
Translucent tears can’t hide the pain.
They fall like shimmering rain
Life itself is to blame.
Translucent waters, clean to drink from,
a must for all living things.
Translucent oceans, a necessity for sealife
to live healthy to have longevity
So humankind can survive
Translucent air to see blue sky clear
No misty fog to choke the throat and burn the eyes.
Translucent heart, like a crystal jewel
Filled with light, filled with love
For all our people
Just share love by being kind
Afterall we’re all humans, different, still so much alike.
We are all one of one kind.



Shell✨🐚
Ken Pepiton Mar 2024
A moment's attention to an hour's raw worth.
This is the mind ****** experiment, last try...
back and forth until it breaks,
touch the edge, feel the heat.

On knowing, first taste, it is believed,
mankind's first mother made all mankind,
all from first mother
on to logically, eventually,
us;
You and me,
as we slipt the Matrix and uttered
the first breath wail that clicks the post womb life.

First thought that death ought be feared
has not yet been given the beguilement needed,
to make a slave to the mission revealed by truth's
spirit form, wind form, mind form, time formed point.

Knowledge, forbid my ignorance, but should one,
such as I, not die before my **** hair thins,
to lay bare the scalp that covers holy access
through the window in the top of the skull;

well, then, a certain respect is due me, a love, proof
that my reasonings were honed sharp enough,
early enough to form hooks to hang strands
of fullered fibers of gnosis from.

Prepared stitching thread, twirled intwining line
of reason, plumb weighted to hang straight,

perpindicular, swinging when to when, then
to now, to day from night, to ready after letters
are fitted to let us take thought, while attempting

contemplative temporary causal agency,
mediating meditation's worth versus daydreaming.

--------------
Standard transmission, clutched, loosed,
engaged to catch a spark and start the process

rolling presently from past instances of learning.

Motivational motors of minding one's busyness,
catch a spark mid sequence, in a valved chamber

whooshing to push to shove to pull, and push
to displace and **** and shove to push and roll,

extending any individual's reach, confining
one's attention to inner reasonings, efforting
to steer the convenience compelling consciousness,

paid attention to terminii in reality set by science,
acknowledged used to increase the mobility of our kind,
mind you, promotion demands hands and eyes,
coordinating coy and ardent wills worth observation,
as will to be useful as  arms and necks and nerves
and muscles and ligaments to tie bone frames,
to controls allowing fingers to steer,
as tongues do, as rudders do,

as my will being done may do,
we imagine as children watching adults work wishing.



---------
the efforting, effectual, fervent umph
applied to being useful on the whole,

the efforting made good by limitation
on liberty, free-state of matter, under
gravity and velocity, bound and determined,

to obey the binding force realized in thought,
leveraging aging winding springs force holds,
cogs to stop grinding gears, catchments,
mind hooks with torque converting aspiration

grasping reasons to resist inertial entropic
good enough reasons to sit still and wait.

------

guaged goodness, measured mind width
comprehended, held with thumb and fingers,
in our combined ready writer mind, manipulated

muscle memorial cause confirming, progress
toward our common, shared joy strength

winging lift up from least useful of creatures,
unselfsustainable --nidicolous, nest bound,
bald baby birds, or pre-birds, evolving
into functional forms for use in life
as we, the best form
of life we have conceived.
-----------

We have, behavioral autonomy, only
to the degree, the measured
parental investment, we need to have
and keep hold of having grasped, as
behavior becoming to beings of this kind.

Word smiths, mind adjustment experts,
fed from stacks in libraries so vast, that

now, we know, no mortal mind can hold
half of all we have experimentally proven
good for any word using cluster of us to have

to hold and use to make might be rights.

May might used right take thought, aye, may
be the will to have right use honed to one point,

new known pastless place, farthest edge
of ever after all we think or ask has proven,

patient stasis, waiting is, suffer it to be so now.

Some times and one times,
revisiting the process, producing me
and you, the processors of our realif-ications.

If as a condition,
in an ifery state, sticking to any matter realized;
we think as if one of us thought first, in time passing

now, from then, in your mind, my mind leaves reproof,
constructed to prevent the falling back into doubt,

two heads, four minds, one wind to share
in time passing as when one now meets a then,
when all attention ever once paid this now, turns

this time into a part of ever after all,
as words speak to heart felt conscience use proven
good, clean, pure state of first interest bearing lent
ears, hearing entertaining causing agents taunting troof.

Prove me now, herewith. Have I not filled your lungs,
have I not granted science right use of knowledge needed

to keep your nidicolous naked soul inspired to continue,
sowing kindness, same mindness, ag, agrimental agreement

we think, we thunk,
we thank our lucky stars, time and chance,

taut twang strangs of our hearts and minds, "chu-hoi",

big hugs, evahboty be nice like G.I., open arms
sự đầu hàng

bring before us the machine gunner called Whykill… begin
judgment near the incident, sự kiện, 29-02-01968,

There we was, me and Frenchy and Culpepper or something,
I forget, and now, I'm dead and all you all have are artificial
memorex versions of things I said I was a witness to, as a liar,
-nothin' but a houn'dawgnosis
picking old scents of sense we made in conversations,
so far past the point of no return, that none on the other side,
can contain innocense, livery of consci, where in our uniformity,

protrudes through old time religious linking thinking, wonders if
we might imagine living on in other words, after all's been
said and done… Whykill's dead. Hohlenstein's dead, and I am not.

Can you hear me now? Earth, earth, can you hear me now?
I hear your brother's blood crying out,
what now, this
now,
you know,
all those idle questions, you know? Did you
feel me lie and tell me no, no, man,
you can't do that.

And be not deceived. Single mind dominance, flat
left and correct, right, right, create an ifery wasery when,

then, let us form a means to use this ifery wasery when,
now, let us form
in time as realizable, vision, written plain,

set in new fangled fonts unicoded
common computable convertible
to bits in math-mental fundus corpus us,
beyond infinity through absurdity to us
becoming these thinkable thoughts,
living words all googly translated on demand,
rethinkable, as entertaining shapers of our kinds
of minds, keyed to constant news alerts, looking
for spots on the walls we pass along, hedged betting

this land is Nature's God's land, and this pasture,
green and lush, this leisure time, as advertised,
mine, my last wish
combination running streams of hot and cold water,
memory foam souls in my Adidas, as I did, assume
the role, Balaam's ***, or donkey,
if your public ***** word filter
hides ssscertain ifery essence
as sounds shuffled schitteringshits.
saint's accuser user rights assigned, runs
Phunky muse, ish bin, dasein, by das zeit, okeh
become alright already, done did done, done, indeed,
desired right to design, knowing already
the idea in the seed, was in
the virus first, and some say
long before long now,
in long then when nothing was a thought.
Knowledge was used to expose us all to living words.
Such as =
U can hold, as a mind let be formed
from mere wish it were
so easy
to fall in love, silly, blessedness
sensing mothering wombed men,
led astray with stories as wild as Theresa wannabes can conceive,
barren womb conceptions, dared define this penetralium,
esoteric guts of all sacred oxen processions, announcing
****** births reportedly
become motherless *******, and such
become outcasts, who often as not,
survive and thrive on wilderness.
Day and night, seedtime and harvest.
Learning from wind and sun and water and dirt and stone,
presoil granite, lime
from primordial sealife eons
on eons awaited, according to Devine wedoms
aspiring to some day become those cities of marble long ago
- replicate forming a marble pillar,
- from seaformed life forms turned to stone,
- in the kidneys of the world.

slow sea settle the white cliffs, pile
on pressure from megatons
of solid ice, firming fractious soft muds
at the bottom
of ancient land locked oceans,
frozen, squeezing solidified worths
weights of rainfall reacting first time
to climates constant changing
pulls from lucky stars and
guiding stars and
disintegrating
ancient's land marks, Casa Bonita,
those Bhuda reps
in the basalt, reminding
remember nothing is real,
blank slate, po' preserver of first impressions, lasting
lifetimes in words never given a reader's added weight, but

by a kind of more than once might wish
to ask, effectuality try
proofing insulation umph
opposing imposture syndrome,
with functional Dunning Krueger
inate cognative imbalence, valenced
within the pre pancreatic failure gut neurons bias…
burped bubble perception, whole self tuning
entire being concept, repenting ignorance begging
truth be known, make me unbelieve beloved lies,
other wise
make me
Art
Intuited, as a weform lifeform,
a we of three neuronal territories,
thinkers reading doer's reports from ports far afield, out there

where shapes of things that were some time ago,
can be translated into two dimensions fitting this window,
using these letters whose sense we all may use to think

translate me, the living word reminds the daydreaming monk,
consider really the stars, for number, now, and take that,
knowledge, a ledge on an oblique inleaning facet of us,

and walk along it not looking down
on or as, may be
the we form of one ready
to be reading ready we state,
in a punctuated equilibrium *** *** ***
Drums
Timpanis, Phrigian rhythms boom boom booming,
Zildjians , krashing and rolling into boingingnodes, domes
of dones, tells holding long forgotten legends for a time.

Nineveh, the repentant city, eh,
to the level
of its labor class things, fasted an acceptable fast,
miracle of miracles, the city did not fall, the miracle
of Jonah was that the city changed behavior
to such a degree that the God who had used Jonah,
made him a story in himself, used to glorify truth,
and someday make gourd growers
proud to be shapers if Meerschaum puff clouds,
made him a creature with no comprehension of mercy,
to use him in a great sorting out testing of spirits,
in the great game of the being edge overlapping gains
taken as granted grace, readers rule non readers,
see the images on the wall, hear the actors in the back,

break a leg, bad luck magic insiders hold true good,
encouragement to fret nothing, as a dancer does,
when listing with the breeze through new chance,

on the page, a pause,
a breather taking lax laze lize guessing others wise,

we suspect ourselves of hubris, as if the other wise
reason for the functional faith in goodness is done,

sneezing phase is past, if you've read this far, by now

you are infected, and as you know, knowing too much
can **** a mortal bent to believe an institutionalized PR
Q-code/ begging oppositional support,
for the dam whence the boy pulled his finger and stepped

back to be blown downstream in time to let the last salmon
spawn and bring worth back to the rain always falling,
mainly on the plain,

Habakkuk habit, artistic intuition patterns of stroke, for luck,
let role in lines intending to hold the slightest smile,
thinking I know, this is not the same vale,
this is not the same current, nor same opinion worth a look,
streaming, not rowing, life
at the moment
is a day taken
for daydreaming equivalent
to a koan ridden
to its vanishing point
on the horizontal insistence
of our mutual peculiar leanings off center,

in a phi mark pattern pearling things think through,
doing words a proper spin,
to hit the nail on the head,
pop.
Stop/ now. Taste the pudding,
is there proof now from then?
D'he, ahe he he - didja ever have the ware withal
to make up
your own mind?

-------------
Yes, walk away, daydreaming boy,
location and possession of means,
for deciphering Emperical runes,
put into my craft and trade in
Calabash pipes, seen, but unseen
gourds employed as smoked ****
and fine tobacco investigatory oral
fixations prominent during the nicotine
DNA adaptation,
{took five generations}
from popular pastime
of blowing smoke, after effects
took on global societal ruling lines
of taut strict reasons to keep smoking,
keep on, keepin' on, minding solo scriptura,

in smoke filled rooms whither whole new forms
for holding mental tyranny enough to wage war,
took shape to govern those who must fight for
the cost of power contained
in a concept with kings,
and us, or Gods and men…
opposed to, leaning against, acting
as scaffolding holding old dams destined
soon to break,
"and at that time thy people shall be delivered,
every one that shall be found written
in the book."

Johnstown flood, was a true historical news worthy event,
unlike the name of any person whose name is in a list
of souls departed from the frail shell of mortality,

ready or not.
Fret not, and naught, aye, no thing or thought
Christmas angel say aight, be not afraid of knowing,
good new things to know, whole old truths put to rest.

Here come Jubilee, one last time,
big time, big time revival of the truth conception

creator of the whole shebang.
Biggest to infinitile insignificance, in fancy other words.

But thou, O Daniel,
shut up the words, and seal the book,
to the time of the end:
many shall run to and fro,

Assisting intelligences shall seem as guides,
Michael models will seem like second comings.

in implodelusive spurts… as can be imagined
reviving old lies for new carnal mind tweaks.
Thanks for your patient investment, the cost of your attention ags me on.
neth jones Jul 2021
the penters brutal militia
now marches
scopic
through a portal truncated
pass...

In unailing sleep
     i taunt the spheres
       and demand the negatives
scream out elements
strike runted ire
         at the worlds great forgeries

dream #1

an ancient cottage is clouted to the ground
paff !
borned
a charred magician trick
  rapid sporing
   inflating to a build
    then pressure cooked
        packed with smoke        
          compounded by fire              
in a quenched **** of energy
                            a construction
                     beams and rocks
                a hearth is hearted
            a mantle mounted
   feasted together
      and clenched in a furious shrine

i emaciate in the quiet storm of collected electric
i must test this unruin
i put an assertive foot over the threshold and...

i am pulled to the lovers
an attention away from here
downed on the bedroom floor
ridiculous pillow strapped to my ridiculous head
i stand
stammer frustrations
and running on an internal gut of turbulence
i slam home back through bed

dream #2

my burnt match form
all fours on a beach
my spiny digits plugged under the baking sand
straining the salt and murky charity
darkening the sand with impurities
and forgiving the sea
a pure revealing clarity

the formal sun
now casts without interruption
(just a little refractive kink)
water cleared
blinding the blind of the ocean floor
all Eves and Adams startled by
their **** branded world
shamed traffic
of disorientated prehistoric sealife
batting about in the garish aftermath

i resolve to the lovers
face down
******* huffs against the mattress
i flip over and zip back in
hands clamped

dream #3

simple streets and the bedside knife
i greet and greet
the first is a nop
the second a lancing wound
the wound takes a lacing
a bled string
and they are gratefully hauled
with grace to the sky
as though plucked by weather balloon
i am busy
                              in distribution of the lovers
dishonestly forecast to a haven in grave

i'll wake
          work satifified
                              but both revved and worn
early 1st verse -

[bedside knife
                    red bulb flashlight

   fixture my quaggy cranium
    lashed brightly to a pillow
     secure in a flight

     nocturnally occupied
     tuned to a volatile folly
   hosted most thorough
running on an internal gut of turbulence]
SøułSurvivør Oct 2024
<]]]]><
                         <[[[[><
         <]]]]><

Imagine your beautiful
Window of Sea.
The creatures obseved
The lifeforms you'd see.

See the dolphin and whale!
See the conch and seasnail.

Shark and you the water float
You'd better get back in your boat!

See the crashing of the waves.
See the dead in watery graves.

Sealife swim and depths appear
Beneath water, sometimes unclear.

So like a certain kind of eyes
Which their mysteries they disguise.

There are many stories to be told
Within the eyes... the windows of soul.



Invisible inc aka
Write of Passage aka
SoulSurvivor
2022
David Huggett Mar 2022
There once was a boy...

There once was a boy named Matthew. When he was little he walked out of his house and into the woods and no one ever saw him again. After he left his house he traveled the world he stowed away in cargo hulls of ships and snuck onto planes, when anyone caught him  and asked where his parents were he would say "Right behind you!" and run away. Then there was a war. World war III to be exact. During this war he would try to get close to the battles to watch the soldiers fight. The world had been divided between two super maces, the Gatacon and the Nireh. The Gatacon had the technology but the Nireh had numbers. Today was special for Matthew because the Gatacon had begun hiring soldiers from the age of 15 and up, to increase their numbers and Matthew had just turned 15 yesterday. He walked into the registration office and presented his certificate of qualification to the officer. "A little young to be joining the army ain't cha lad," said the officer "Old enough as far as you're concerned I  replied". Matthew, "you'll get you're uniform at the front desk then proceed down to the
sub-basement for mission briefings" said the officer," don't we get any special training" questioned Matthew." "You've got no time for that now do as I said" ordered the officer. Matthew hurried to the front desk and down to the sub-basement eager to learn about his first mission. Once there he sat down next to a frail looking girl as the mission commander began to speak "I'm glad to see
a large turnout" spoke the officer" but I've got no time for idle chit chat, you will be shipped out on an s-18 aircraft where you will parachute down to the battlefield below. You're job is to set up a defense post. We have a base camp nearby and we need something to prevent night raids so you will be on guard 24-7". The group of 37 (Matthew counted) headed up to the airlift on the roof of the complex where they where quickly escorted onto a helicopter like plane. As they entered they saw that they each had a designated
spot with a parachute and a 67cm arrow pulse cannon. No one spoke as the plane began to rise and slowly zoom away from the complex. They were a good 2 hours into the plane ride when the pilot came on the intercom and gave orders to parachute in 60 seconds, Matthew quickly strapped on his parachute and headed towards the door, the others appeared to hesitant to go first. He was about to jump when he heard a large commotion from inside the ship and before he knew it he had been
catapulted from the planes door and was plummeting to the ground below. He pulled the cord and gazed downwards, he was way off target and was headed
straight towards the base camp. He was prepared for a long walk though. He heard another clang and gazed upwards to see if anyone else had fallen. The plane was moving fairly jerkily and he wondered what was wrong, then he realized it the
plane was being fired upon by the Nireh he gazed downwards and saw a small group of them firing at it he looked upwards just in time to see it explode, pieces of debree were hurling towards him he reached for his gun in hopes he could blast it out of the sky but it was too late then suddenly everything went black. Hours later he awoke in what appeared to be a first aid tent, there was a searing pain in his right hand he gazed downwards and found that his clothes were covered in blood, he checked his body for cuts but there were none, it must have been the blood of his comrades from the ship he gazed at his right hand witch was covered in red bandages. A few minutes later a man that looked like a doctor walked in" Quite an accident your crew had Matthew lucky you got out of it alive, your right hand was torn from your arm so we replaced it with an electronic one, it will hurt for a while but soon it will be as good as new. You were also covered in radioactive waste from the plane's battery so we gave you an experimental vaccine for neuclear poisining and it appears to be working its good too because if this war comes to neuclear bombs you can't get poisoned" chirped the doctor.

"Can I get some new clothes" wheezed Matthew," sure, and since your crew was wiped out you will be stationed he for the remainder of the war". For the next few days Matthew worked around the camp and helped wherever he could. Then devastating news came. The Gattacon had developed a neuclear weapon with devastating power. It was being shipped across the ocean when a Nireh attack plane sunk the vessel it was on. Already reports had come in of dead sealife washing up on shores. Within a few months
Matthew was all alone, the bomb had contaminated the world and Matthew was alive because of an experimental vaccine, but Matthew was used to being alone so everything turned out just fine.

The End.

— The End —