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Theia is too big,

too unstable,

He thrashes through Earth,

chaos fed by

the pull of Venus,

the science of gravity,

the will of God.

I am my mother‘s daughter.

Patriarchy violently disturbs her

undisturbed flesh,

it’s swells and grows in power,

too unstable to harm in just a single way.

It is gruesome -

the impact. Earth’s debris spills into the galaxy,

rains back down mockingly,

clusters and incubates.

I am moon,

born of violence,

deliberately accidental chaos fed by patriarchy is fed by

the pull of evil,

the science of manipulation,

the will of God. they say

A part of Earth becomes moon,

A part is too gentle,

her clipped wings,

her plucked feathers,

her broken dreams,

fertilized in chaos become me.

In the aftermath of Theia,

Earth watches birth,

her own flesh,


Call it what you will,





“A Violent Splash of Magma That May Have Made the Moon”

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