Connection is rotting.
Connection pours its pixeled fever into the bowels of global death.
Digital cancer spreads through anal flux.
Breath is decaying — connection throws up the void of its dark cum.
Binary putrefaction leads the blank becoming of beheaded urge.
Tits and butt will take you online to the algorithm of your own corpse.
horror — is nothing — my bowels per se — had razors at lunch — horror — nothing — blank sun — iced virtual fuck — my liver — frozen — snatched breath — squeezed red cells — blowing off the dark sap of my plasmatic silence
square bone gushes on the mangled edge of darkish spatters while smooth whores wail and writhe in the woods my TV died of testicular cancer shiny tits illusion sparkles around synthetic mountains through the holy sleep the big toe survived the plague and now it’s squirting words of milky wisdom and black crackling cum the square jaw has come
sensual anxiety puking its fuchsia gall on the final pie of sidereal panic
slit human spleen
drowsing in a silver bag
cold lymph shower
on the back of the three dicks beast
cut off my toe NOW
pixeled soporific artifact
gelding the slack eye of void
immanence lies on butchery freshness
crowds of fetuses
agonising on the edges of meaty cliffs
shredded squishy tongues dripping beneath the crude erection of becoming
vanishing in flabby whining
over ramshackle gallbladder