Generational grammar

There I burried a shadow and a song sprang from stone throats. Everyone must say goodbye someday, only songs remain. For this world is a soundwave in the ocean of silence that is not. Pure voices are everything that exists. And if something exist, it must necessarily have a music to itself. To be or not to be, that’s bullshit. Generation after generation, none of that is now, but their songs in our voices, their salt in our tears. “Is that you?” The question derailed my thoughts. There she was, my friend from 5th grade. “I’m leaving now, this might be the last time we meet”, I answered. “Who would protect me?”, she wandered. Why do we need protections? What’s the meaning of security? Is it earphones for the things we don’t want to hear? Is it silence? “Is it dead silence?”, mumbled I. “Why are you leaving me? What did I do?”, she said on he brink of crying. “You don’t need me. That’s why. It’s just you haven’t realize”, her eyes were darken under her long greasy hair that captured the light coming from nowhere, “we all must hold the wake, face our silences alone. Something tells me that only chains and suffering awaits me. The Spirit talks to me, you might say. I can’t be around. What you call mine, it is not. This, all this, blood and bone, is not mine. How could I protect you if I’m nothing? Suns and star leave a trail, but not me. I will completely and ultimately become utterly silent. I’m holding to nothing, for nothing is what I am…”. “Crash and burn, asshole!”, here she comes at my, covered in ghastly  flames…

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