So aliens landed one day. Eons ago. They had a rager. Fucked this shit up. The ooze they left behind mixed with dirt. Created blood. The🩸 pooled. Deep reservoirs of it. Towards the very deep, thousands of feet below the crust. Skeletons formed from branches and calcium deposits. Animated with the alien goo. They, Slowly crawled up the dark 🕳 and here we are. We are all skeletons with bloody pores. Snotty holes. Can we postpone evil and death for one more day? One last hour before we are led astray? We perpetuate evil through books and words. We point to books as planetary discourse. Truth or lie? Dare or scare? We fear death so we wish it upon ourselves.

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