a thought from Akhenaten

And soon I’ll leave this house and find a new location to live, thought Akhenaten, but first before the rainbow dawn of the horizontal burning pyramid-eye inhales another drop, I must make lives lift in the twirl of a sandstorm of the brain, where houses inside there, will remain untouched by the hands of sand—as it wipes away the rest of the dust populating the scattered colonies of the multiple-headed-mask eating away at the hearts of all those ants—the people in their dance shall live even past the death of their bodily decay. Who needs a mummified governmental force inside the coffin anyway? It only clutters the junk of windows and brings deformities to the birthing process and channels working commands to march onward in their beetle-replaced legs with powers a horse couldn’t withstand before collapsing—each person inside their unique body will inhabit that house of the earth, as they participate in every activity pertaining to the breathing reality of the qualifying exactitude each person is. Shapes will retain their lives, in the lives of the penetrable earth, by winds and by farming’s necessity—all is light regardless of the sanctuary of the air these inhabitants are, all pieces of gold fall to the feet of deformities revealed, and nothing is made a spectacle.


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