How much longer can I flop around? I’ve been gasping for so long that I’ve forgotten what’s like to breath. It always takes ages to grow legs. A million memories must proceed. Only then could I shake the slime. A viscous memorabilia inhabits every corner of me. Until then I writhe. I could reach out to the natives, but Mr. Darwin’s’ law holds firm. I’m going to evolve whether I want to or not.
Mr. Darwin's theory certainly holds true, generally speaking... but for one discrepancy: the rate of evolution of the Cro-Magnon man. There is this period in history with some unexplained cataclysmic injection, which caused this Man to out-evolve the Neanderthal. In many ways, we have de-generated since then. It is no wonder that today's individual has so unscrupulously bastardized the Wisdom of the Ancients into the basest superstition. Spoken from the mouth of one such very individual, however, the above statement must immediately be considered invalid.
So, osiris basically just opened his mouth, and nothing came out As to the poem, I liked it a lot. I like the way you connect your sense of being out of your element with evolution. The last line was perfect.
