Monday, August 30, 2010

the other side

I am from the forgotten district of western cascadia, on the other side of the wall of dead cops and past the lake of pretend smiles.

Here normal people camouflage doesn't work, and everyone is ashamed.

We hide our faces in hollowed coconuts and dance around deep forest fires. We accept our cowardly ways and punish ourselves. We'll continue to do so until the tallwoods tell us otherwise.

We kill machines that we've stolen from the normal side, and drown those who come looking.

I came here after my smiler broke and my heart withered. When i could no longer dance among the plastic dead, nor hide beneath intoxication. I can't return, my way has been forgotten and the crumbs I left to find my way back have long been eaten by spirit crows who darken my path with circling shadows.

Waiting to pounce when I've forgotten.

This is the wasteland of shattered hearts. We are broken here, diseased, and we lash back at those who have cracked us with lashes. This is the wasteland, the other side, where our freedom is obtained by way of desperate separation.

It is wild here, and though we are lost, we will not be forgotten. You'll remember us through our story. And we'll remember you through yours.

When the talltrees have tired of you, they will shake loose the roots of your lifecities. As your buildings crumble in, we'll watch from the otherside, laughing and dancing, and you'll hear us through the screams and chaos. The skies will cry red and the fires will rage high, and as your system dismantles, you will Remember Us Feral.

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