Humanity is a cannibalistic flower. We bloom, ever growing in this canopy of sky and sunshine. We devour ourselves, the bones of those before us, our brothers and sisters, our neighbors and friends. We are beautiful, colorful and chaotic. We are roses and dandelions, dancing and spinning through time and space.
Ever-changing and always the same. We are complex and simple in our complexities. We are a virgin and a whore, constantly moving from one body to the next in our hunger. This hunger is overwhelming, devouring us. In its wake we are transfixed by the greed and the need. We are sexuality and ritual, cannibals and whores. Flightless birds on a collision course.
We are a field of red. Red roses, red poppies, red paint dripping everywhere. Wars divide us, unite us. We stand alone, but stand together. We pick the flowers we like best and cut down the others, proclaiming them weeds. It is the same in every generation. We have our prejudices, our vices. We are purity and love, beauty and lust.
We are simplistic in our complex nature. Chaos mating simplicity and complexity in a ritualistic, cannibalistic and sexual frenzy. We try to escape, but there is no escaping the self. We find ourselves within the bodies of others, raping and killing, trying to find the truth in blood. In the end we are hacked down by the flowers behind us. Each of us weeping that it was not our time.
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