virtual worlds
they get stuck in this life and yearn to return to the other
they are held back by memory and skin which falls from their seasons
they cannot move but are made from layers torn from their flesh
you are stuck in pain, you are held back, you cannot move
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small models of splayed and abstracted avatars in pain
they are fleeing from it
radio sounds from antique radio equipment
you lean against glass and hear the flesh of the earth
photographs of a small child doomed to make these things
the child is doomed to listen to these things too
images of dead soldiers against your eyes
you cannot think anything but images of dead soldiers
books of martyrs and tortures and torments closed
you cannot read through covers telling your cold future
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lament maquette for the dead as the world oozes human beings
