We swim in slime of a kakristocracy.
Its murky yet neon green; with radioactive counterfeit dollar bills.
These waters are toxic; it's inhabitants littered and hypoxic.
Ethnocentric, psychographic, demographic divides each line in it's Net worth catch.
Yet there is a falling cascade.
A where about place where Seahorses galavant.
There can be no chuevinism; where she provides and he bears his own legacy.
The Stud and his Mare.
Subsequentially inside a tsunami, crashing down on a barren coral reef.
Even in these tumultuous times, he will ask for her egg and she shall concede.
Now wading in the torrents of a dream; they and their offspring, sleeping peacefully beneath the Stampede.
Copyright © Alex Cullen | Year Posted 2018
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