Just used to sit there and play games

also there are no happy birthdays now…

D. David Croot has been writing on and off (pretty much continually) for nineteen hundred years. He is no preternatural creature, no real special abilities or heightened desires to speak of, but he’s put in his four-trillion hours and it’s all for you my sweaty precious and sublimely beautiful creatures.

Free debut novel here: Â https://ko-fi.com/ddavidcroot

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Just used to sit there and play games

Chatting, words hung like

cliffs crumbling

It was beautiful in heaven

fourteen meters from food

No notion of the evil in the world

Just us against them

In unruly fun you see

the taunts, the insults, the hours of sweat

the horrific sentiments shared in humour and good faith

I hope they are still like that now

And they instinctively know

to modulate your language

your demeanour

is the only crime of the soul

There are no happy birthdays