The Philosophy of Primates

Brains snag on the fabric of time like hang nails; death grooms the soul. Pay homage to the golden calf and be awarded citizenship and a nine digit name. The air tastes like sulfur and all the mammals are afraid. Sharp teeth crease delicate lips into shadows from a dying sun. Stiff bodies hang like bananas from flora, while Darwin writes his eulogy.

Story by:

Lucius Rodin

submitted at 11:56am

16 December 2010

Lucius Rodin's web:

www.welcometothebasement.blogspot.com