Dust isn't always the culprit. Rust insists on appearances. Just enough appearances to keep up its legend. X amount of sightings, setting power in absence. Rust isn't always the method. Dust will trick rust into accomplice. Dust rolling away in collective recklessness. Flesh wasting away

Under cloak of invisible ongoings. Rust flaking away into unaware flesh. Both realizing itself. Each confusing itself in the mess of their meeting. Each pulling itself away, the one tweaking the other's descriptors, the two in realization one can no longer exist without the other

This is when rust settles in, somewhere. Finding itself in the spongy ambiance. Changing the genetics. Unintentionally, and undeniably, becoming apart of the degeneration. Neither is identifiable any longer. A new beast waking in the messy combination

Rusted readings
Ingredient labels don't tell much more than flesh, bone, and somewhat thinking being included - guaranteed. There is no conspiracy. The reading is just off. There is no genocide. The eyes just desire appropriate adjustment time. There is no homicidal influences. The others aren't involved

If this was about tobacco, inherent supremacy, mental illness, cultural tolerance, addiction, alcohol, social neglect, or any of a myriad of other conspiracy-, genocide- and homicide- based realities, the others would be involved. In involving the others, readings could only be accurate

Rusted readings

You rust your readings. Requiring the networking, the shallow discussions on classic topics disguised as novel pursuits. Settling ice your only reminder of where you are, of who you are, this time. The sound of a familiar voice decomposing structural soundness from the flesh out

You rust your readings. Networking with possibility selves, and about things you don't care about. Things you rather not be associated with, the same things you only have an association with. Dreaming of dreams come true, living scared to trash what you know for what you want

Rusted readings stomp on the grid, squeezing into the tiny crossed lines. Enter doors uninvited but uncontested, heads of households slapping themselves into crying fits for it to stop

Expecting dust to bring a new you created separate, not expecting mutant hybrid

You rust your readings