Reification Can Be Expensive

there is no path here, it's all a jewelled bullet. variables grow right through simulation into substitution. vats explode like stolen blacks and blues radiant with congress, then answer the door in revealing, diaphanous gowns that spray the unsuspecting with the pungent scent of cloned genitalia. aerial dwarves silently observe clerics talking in the lost garden, dribbling love at the edges of the rhyme scheme.



machine injuries, newsprint head-wounds chew sevens from the face of the clock. all this faded glory translates into digital shots fired into the already-dead. the full silence lustily tongues cheap drafts into the wee hours, easy and caustic songs about the future. the banality of prison-life continues making your hamburger a beautiful thing writhing here in the addiction to ankles and their attendant blur.