I camped alone on many plateaus.
The contemplative nimbus
grew many tendrils.
I rode one up into a golden sky.
I mutated in a cloud, something
deeper than my cells
hammered its way out.
I flew home without a doubt,
my flesh in tow. I strut
these alien sidewalks
looking for a strange job.
Swamps are blooming
purple flowers for my demon seed.
The round hills seethe with desire
and topple old financial structures.
The social system is
winding its weird way down
as I sharpen my illicit crown.
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