#dailywriting — Public Fediverse posts

but you must

you do not believe it
and yet you must
act as though it’s true;
although the human world
belies it, it
is foundational, it
must be true
despite it’s falseness;
it pins all smiles at the corners;
it keeps gold shined and copper tarnished;
it is everywhere once
you agree to see it.

but you must

you do not believe it
and yet you must
act as though it’s true;
although the human world
belies it, it
is foundational, it
must be true
despite it’s falseness;
it pins all smiles at the corners;
it keeps gold shined and copper tarnished;
it is everywhere once
you agree to see it.

but you must

you do not believe it
and yet you must
act as though it’s true;
although the human world
belies it, it
is foundational, it
must be true
despite it’s falseness;
it pins all smiles at the corners;
it keeps gold shined and copper tarnished;
it is everywhere once
you agree to see it.

but you must

you do not believe it
and yet you must
act as though it’s true;
although the human world
belies it, it
is foundational, it
must be true
despite it’s falseness;
it pins all smiles at the corners;
it keeps gold shined and copper tarnished;
it is everywhere once
you agree to see it.

but you must

you do not believe it
and yet you must
act as though it’s true;
although the human world
belies it, it
is foundational, it
must be true
despite it’s falseness;
it pins all smiles at the corners;
it keeps gold shined and copper tarnished;
it is everywhere once
you agree to see it.

the trees

our homes are built from the dead;
sawn, planed, cut, oiled,
fitting nicely together;
tombstone and corpse both;
the crypt-smell of sawdust, the
children desperate in the forest –
where did they go? will they come back?
and the light bursts through the canopy
in new and intoxicating patterns.

the trees

our homes are built from the dead;
sawn, planed, cut, oiled,
fitting nicely together;
tombstone and corpse both;
the crypt-smell of sawdust, the
children desperate in the forest –
where did they go? will they come back?
and the light bursts through the canopy
in new and intoxicating patterns.

the trees

our homes are built from the dead;
sawn, planed, cut, oiled,
fitting nicely together;
tombstone and corpse both;
the crypt-smell of sawdust, the
children desperate in the forest –
where did they go? will they come back?
and the light bursts through the canopy
in new and intoxicating patterns.

the trees

our homes are built from the dead;
sawn, planed, cut, oiled,
fitting nicely together;
tombstone and corpse both;
the crypt-smell of sawdust, the
children desperate in the forest –
where did they go? will they come back?
and the light bursts through the canopy
in new and intoxicating patterns.

the trees

our homes are built from the dead;
sawn, planed, cut, oiled,
fitting nicely together;
tombstone and corpse both;
the crypt-smell of sawdust, the
children desperate in the forest –
where did they go? will they come back?
and the light bursts through the canopy
in new and intoxicating patterns.