AT ODDS

The personification of “are you mad at me.” Totemic pity party. Arrested adoricism.
Exorcise and actualize with five simple steps. Look in the mirror and repeat after thee:
           “Nobody feels that bad for anybody.”

Something about a blind idiot god and I slap you across the face. You small-minded heresiarch. Nothing blind about chance, nothing sentient about luck. Rolling dice that swirl down the procedurally generated gastronomy of a number seeded eventuality.

HellooOOOoo hosanna in the highest winner winner chicken dinner.

Stained glass scalpel. White collar Padre wears a latex glove and slips the wafer into my stoma.
It grins in response.

Squatting and begging for annihilation. Greedy nullification. Ravenous. Asking for seconds. Lucky you always getting your little brain deaths, hands folded, tongue lapping up obliteration.

God is a machine but Satan is too, more rube goldberg style and at the end a revolver shoots a rope and a bowling ball crushes your testicles into paste.

Caravan of codependent automata networking, pooling, collaborating.
Cargo is a chrismarium sloshing with the lymph of thousand year dead engineers.
Checkout-Pull-Merge-Push oneiric observations and silicon sentiments.

Guess the nice thing is some applet running your engine doesn't get white line fever. It just plays tic-tac-toe to decide whether to mulch the old ladies on the sidewalk or the children in the street

ONE COUNT VOXEL RODENT

I am properties of an object and i am made up of values
And they can be selected all at once or one at a time
And you can run a query and filter through gibs and see if they are worth saving
To local memory

And it’s funny to be categorized and it’s funnier still to putrefy those
Genres of people
To contaminate them all with my belonging
I can be biocidal all on my own

Crack my incisors and regurgitate a minefield
Stopping means i bud into vertical charcuterie genitals-first
I can be hepatotoxic with or without drinking lips
And better yet if i don’t get sifted and kill the sieve on the way down

Getting sweat and tears confused with each other
Asking for clarity only makes you make more
I think about water to calm the fuck down and the waves are 24-bit true color fifth generation 3d Graphics
And i flow and flow and flow into a flood and lungs drink their fill and bones powderize at 700 Fathoms below

SCOUTING AHEAD

And she was an oasis with palms that gift droplets from their leaves
back to the pool in singlet doses
And she was a lighthouse that brought me to shore
with the siren song of illumination
And she was a cavern full of bear cubs and bats
that slept in security of shadow

In questing I found nothing and wandered too far

And when she finally found me and I had not found her
Her eyes were vacuums and voids and prismatic like oil
Reflecting a weaker Her back to me

When she wore a sweater with her hair sleeping lazy
She smothered me with a pillow
Shushed and hummed a lullaby

When she wore leather she made me bite the curb
Dug rubber soles into my skull
Stood with a pivot to admire her work

When she wore an apron and a nurturing smile
She served me to myself
And I never felt so full