essay: #090: The Diving Bell


Defunct satellites.
Fall from orbit.
As do stars.
Of the human kind.

Dreamt of him.
Again, last night.
On volcanic sand.
His skin was hot.
And life was good.

Coastlines dredged.
While others flood.
The Diving Bell.
And the Butterfly.
Simple, really.
Coming home, soon....

# Transmission ends #

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