Earth is إرث, is inheritence.
حصر الإرث is limiting the inheritence.
What did we inherit? What do we pass on?What pains? What traits? What properties? What language? What words?
The other is us, but they've forgotten. They keep treating each other like another being, a different entity. They invited all sorts of intitities with their forgetfulness.
Unconsciousness is غياب الوعي
غائبون
نائمون
هائمون
The ground still shakes, but nobody's noticing. They keep forgetting, always distracted. The latest phone, the latest app, the latest fad. The latest trip, the latest trap, the latest ad.
The mornings are salve, a soothing temporary muting of their evergoing useless chatters. Empty words. Hollow thoughts. Shallow feelings. A stage of performances.
"Faire semblant" is what the classy kinky bisexual man replied nonchalantly, when I asked him "why?" about his not so exciting encounters with vanilla prostitutes. To pretend to be a normal man!
Pretending being alive indeed.
This life, mistaken for a game. They'd fake their very breath if they could. Excited, about the banks, and the statements, and the currency, and the exchange of everything.
But come what may, they sleep through the light.
Soulless,
vacant,
overtaken.
Night creatures,
dark hearts,
shaded beings.
The other is me, and that pains me, it's why I keep writing.
We are suffering, but nobody's noticing...
Amnesiac,
Sidetracked.
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