Cult of Camacho 2040.18
Posted: Wed Nov 13, 2019 2:29 pm
[The following was scrawled onto the California Crusader's locker room whiteboard prior to the game in Seattle on August 10th, 2040. A circle containing a hand-print was scribbled in the upper right corner.]
I lived in those in between places, safe and unnoticed, never committing. I sat on benches as others boarded buses, drove cars, and rode bikes to destinations unknown. I was the cold wind with no snow. I was the leaves left after raking. I was the lone sparrow on the fence.
And how do you live? Do you shine bright as a spring day, melting the ice? Or do you just peak through the clouds?
Do you fall in love? Do your eyes ever overflow with joy? Do you close your eyes and just dance?
I did not.
I wrapped myself in expectation. I let its comfort caress me. I let its build up of desire drown me. But, mostly, I let its hollowness consume me.
Safe.
Unnoticed.
The culling is here.
Tick Tock.
I lived in those in between places, safe and unnoticed, never committing. I sat on benches as others boarded buses, drove cars, and rode bikes to destinations unknown. I was the cold wind with no snow. I was the leaves left after raking. I was the lone sparrow on the fence.
And how do you live? Do you shine bright as a spring day, melting the ice? Or do you just peak through the clouds?
Do you fall in love? Do your eyes ever overflow with joy? Do you close your eyes and just dance?
I did not.
I wrapped myself in expectation. I let its comfort caress me. I let its build up of desire drown me. But, mostly, I let its hollowness consume me.
Safe.
Unnoticed.
The culling is here.
Tick Tock.