OS Cracker A Bold / 200px
I am the leftovers of tomorrow a by-product of my own destruction
OS Cracker B Light / 200px
do not remember me as remnants, but as the one who kept things going
OS Cracker A Regular / 128px
Think of me as your grandma finding a second wave after your grandpa’s death I’ve been through the gates and back and I saw you piling up your thoughts
OS Cracker A Bold / 48px
You cleared a small patch of ground and started with the largest in the middle, stood upright as a central pillar. The form grew concentrically as you placed them one by one, delicately using the the previous to prop up the next. Some you broke, in order to nestle them between their predecessors. You took great care not to hurt yourself as you snapped them, and were very thorough in picking up the fragments. Leaving gaps between each, you made sure they had room to breath.
OS Cracker B Bold / 48px
But not too much, or the whole thing would come crashing down. You dug slowly around the edges of your construction and diluted the excavated matter, massaging it until it reached a suitable consistency. Once sticky, you heaped it onto the structure, starting at the base and working upwards, pressing down gently as you went to form an even, sealed coating. Four small channels were gouged out equal distance apart around the base, and the top left open.
OOS Cracker B Light / 48px
I live in this structure for a time I know the inner walls as they dry, crack night vision from eating carrots, or from the heavy dark sensitive pores from exfoliation, or from the burning of excess matter brittle to fill the gaps, or to actively filter foes coloured to match the walls of my home, or to warm someone else’s
OS Cracker A Light / 24px
I am the mound of your memory
ignited to pull your stomach from its waistband
suffocated into provision
think of me as a precursor to your metabolism
I remember when you were young
And didn’t know how to warm your hands