Here they come, the cascading stupefied masses. Reaching, clawing, wrenching for their daily bread. More status, more energy, more memories, more experience, much, much more! And as the lagoons overfill, ensuring their ultimate submersion, they horde their momentos, their pastries, their candy canes, their phantoms that quell their unavoidable erasure and obvious apocalypse. Relentless at their reproduction, their entanglement, their collections, they obsessively decorate their gilded cages, prancing around within them like wild horses tamed by the enchantment of their own shadow.
Never able to return to the womb in which they entered time’s coil, they fill their cavities with anything and everything; more and even more. As bellies, mouths and sphincters swell, holding back the kingly portions, like overstuffed piñatas teasing the children on the day of the dead. Unsustainable, unflattering, unrecognizable, the garden of earthly delights has long crossed the Rubicon into a permanent hyperbolic reality, rotting in the hands of the soulless automata left in charge. And still, more! So, so much more!
Fernando Orellana
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