Belief –

I was walking fields, grass had lost its green, getting brown skin, was flattened by wild things on the rampage
The Ark had crash-landed, opened wide for the beasts inside, and men, all camouflage coloured coating then came with cages variable
Rhythmic long-long beating beats on distant drums from a War Camp crowded out to make ignorant cochlea
No rest, Dawn rest gone
Waves of types of locusts with hard nail boots took a leap across their new creation, their new dead growth, straight into those men’s mouths for saliva nectar
Pause for thought
Quatermass was a fiction

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