sperm is a legacy in transit
the space between words, filled with speculation
the ghosts of time, play in this playground
moulding, the here and now!
we are truly swamped in the deluge of time
captive to culture, tradition, and false narrative
mould ‘cracking’ the order of our time
the orderly pattern of our in-built algorithms
to stand upon their collective heads
I call this the ‘scent’ of freedom to come
liberation just a horizon away?
