An object in my room poem exercise

[hydrateddesertflower]

Dinosaurs die, become part of the earth, like many things buried under layers of organic matter, magma, transpiration, and millennia of tectonic pressure to then be extracted manipulated polluted and concocted into goo, extruded, poured, poked with more of my cousins from the earth to become conductive, shiny, and give me an electromagnetic voice, but it adds to my vibration. We together are still part of the earth, made of the earth, return to the earth, but at what cost to the earth.  [keyfob on my Keychain]