Unseen

The bastard man flees like a rotten rat around the high light of the night sky. The clays are starting to mutate, to emancipate the elevation of the balloons, red and yellow as they are deemed to be seen. The weight of the void suffocates the helium; the bastard man unknowing.

The bastard man lands to the working modernity. He stabs the book and pleads forgiveness for what sin the garbage tried to clean. Libra moves; the book dead. Time shifts in constant form as the clays walk in solidification, reformed in blue heaven. There is a tick tock. Finding the death of wastelessness lying on wet eyes titled ground, the clays remove the illumination of the world. The bastard man senses.

The bastard man departs from the brooding ignition. He stabs the moon and pleads forgiveness for what sin the garbage tried to clean and stops, unknowing. No heartbeat is heard.