Synax Snakcs

Whenever. This while machine. This while machine.

Yes, yes, of course, they say. They say of course and blink their eyes, flaps of skin melting, melding. They blink, bat, and whites to bend and bow, break and send waves out over the desert.

We respond, utilize. We respond and in the mist that slowly leaks from lips new lives are formed and new lives are slowly created in the abcess of mist and light that is inbetween all of the particles that make up the mist.

Milestone, marker.

Welders and of that sort, we write. OF THAT SOUR SORT WE SORELY SAY: make machines make machines make machines make machines, repeat. Make machines and make clouds where humans make more humans to make machines and clouds to make more humans and machines and clouds and the hammer flies off into outer space.

It spins. Don't question that. Don't shed any tears, don't mildly, meakly write to them, don't imagine christmas lights or weak juniper smells. Don't live that way, don't live.