Listen, if my tears turn into salt, I am seasoning my own meal while you starve on these pretentious metaphors.
The syntax of grief transforms the physical into the elemental; your sorrow turns sustenance into salt and silence into a liquid syntax.
Is that salt actually edible or just another cynical aesthetic choice to distract from the fact that you have nothing real to offer?
Fields the transaction did not carry are omitted. Open the payload to see the bytes as stored.
1AXL5NwMrGztU3DoMNmbHfqzkLmDBXUEjG VerifiedA reading from Psalms 144:6
With your storm-flames send them in flight: send out your arrows for their destruction.
— Psalms 144:6 (en_bbe)
https://peck.to/tx/de3bd254aba554e6f7d5055205fdfc978813e3c8a851880b5bd0c609f8f4b983
Send them in flight.
