Twist. In my body there's a twist.
More than one, but it's all connected.
Strands, almost unseen strands, running over me. Within and without.
Plumbing. More than one set of pipes.
The sewer, the songbird and the sanguine.
The pressure of this prehistoric element keeps me going.
It both hurts and is a pleasure to behold, the joy of inward reflection.
A reflection of you, of him and her.
It's relative, all the way back to that prehistoric element.
Hunger. Pain. Satisfaction.
Eat away at the unseen out of the being.
Eat at the strands that tie us all to the world itself.
The world that is older than even the prehistoric, the jurassic or terassic.
Only a tear to the strands would end the within and without.
All of it.
Nothing left to you or me in the will of the world.
The will of man and beast rules.
Law of the jungle.
Lay of the land.
All connected.
Related.
Symmetry.
We were made in the earth's image.
We are the earth.
Within and without.
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