Images are dripping…
Cancer is coming, soon…
Cyber-mushrooms puke their mad fuchsia sap in the ears of crippled desire.
— Sophisticated civilization disgorges the most rotten meats.
I have no smartphone. Death is coming, baby…
Digital infection invades the flux, huge abomination… putrescent, crawling larvae, chips and microchips swarming in pus.
Where is my cock ?
Solar vertical forces are swallowed by slugs, worms and virtual octopuses.
Why don’t you slay me, baby ?
of flayed oxen
glowing in broken sensory flows
streams of beheaded redheads
pouring in the gray sluice of my torn skull
six hundred cold knives standing up in lunatic sheaves through the fiery dawn
flood of tender thighs
milky blindness around morning light
and my brains
unctuous atrocious brains
licking the blade of tenderness
a thigh a thigh as it appears enlightened where the verb disappears into the muteness of the thigh abyss on silence and screams bloom in skin and curves through azure steaks and sliced breasts are quivering sidereal dissolution into bowels chaos of light spouting fury meaty colour shut up forget about psychoanalysis destroy screens withdraw your eyes from the swarm of speech be silent I planted the fork in the thigh and blood spurted three large scarlet drops on pale flesh three red rivulets that I savoured on the thigh with my tongue in bright flowing delight the pale obscenity of a smooth ass brightens my intimate atrocity in my glowing skull the light (suffused with crime) strips off the ultimate meat a thigh a thigh the sensory killing sings in sharp twists and quiet night lying through placid milk