invisible in delightful town walking impenetrable under blank lights obtain sainthood in tinted windows smoky prisonhood of bars on bars ghostly glow of grates steaming meanwhile i'm dreamin' vulnerable offcourse like a racehorse seal my lips with airplane glue stew with me dismal let's leave out any all explicit details save for cardinal boss pussy ex-catholic dented tragic fenders rust blots and rollercoasters strangely acid the black angel comes looking all sick looking limited like grieving mothers in tents
stillness reloads face of moon on monitor smoking hatchet grass that clocks've notched half-assed remove her from this trance remove the glue of those've passed on legs too stiff to stand de-seated and defeated cuckoo under nerve-ended klieg lights bobbing apples of voodoo towns plugged into consciousness a whiskey monocle feeling screwed whirlpool of sandhanded sadness
Spring axioms so much, a yellow sworn to metaphysics
(diagonal with rigor, parts of famine are light-speed's day and midnight)
Very clustered and cannibal: what are lilac circles of emotion?
An unblemished cube can reply, "You are molten and therefore not really a part of sex on this world."
Liberty is almost close to spinning music like abstract etceteras. Sulphur's heart can wear Mandarin collars with teeth sailing for beige lipstick and eyes infected with subterranean calculus
(headless toned effort ruts the weather's zero: pleats of mirage added)
The television's soul is puffy, an eightball oasis
--torrential plasma loved from my ear's sick machine gurgles back through, "I refuse to murder for your reality," zones to scream red off as time after dark burns dragons from the gutter and nods the blackened faces of men--Atlantis awaiting the one flesh cosmology she wears sabotaged of juicy corals that flicker ascent to express vision: everything has never been in love twisted of factories and a tree's slow pulse--high shadows desire in all directions or phantom the carnival like pleasure wets punctuated with the beat inside elbows as a leap from promised decay plateaus our only reward stolen by watery lips--haste to reverse the evening's monkey loaded into kisses a kind of dusk and is logic on the catwalk mask holds a red-light district after arrival's word let white really nylon the uterus with compassion: each corporeal tips the sky of significance saying, "Crimson, give me streets that will negate each other"--extant to interpret throbbing
He has sunshine blared on unlocking chromosomes, porn from carrion skies
(plague spines off the rain's fetish for mutilating my legendary simile cock)
Western lands fragmented on your shadow's groove: liquor factions artfully a shade of lungs melt violin ribs into the stench of irrational numbers
(myopia's passing fortune is an authentic order into youth's jazz and jewel funhouse: a purplish dress glaciers after sound's surprising tip of finger ossifies my tongue)
Ravishing over your arched power, the leer answers only in branches. Theory stuns this message, a bit archaic glistening on the surface of, "Iam always mistaken for a mist of silver collars on blank memory." Sunny radar in the nothing is true forever carved as desire, devotion to a coalescing god who knows every artery we are saying.
in which a walking away sans footsteps or embodiment Let us blues onto the brick fist of another online bass lyric that last long Egg she's too blood orange to admire what's old crust under hiss my fingernails well, Lord morning into nausea tiled anon mosaic onto which pieces she squares she calls me sweet story or bathroom fixture daddy memory a-one, two, one with one for knobs she wants bacon slick hanging & dank, boots & hats to turn: on: hot on cold to mix & run awhile lukewarm then off again when she in beauty says off that 's what's the matter with
un-understand lost liquid as amber as a pig's foetus or visceral cursive now it is here exposed to sun's slant rays to dismissals secreting history's fisticuffs empowered by days hard to feel would eat dinner slopping hither and thither mannequin-esque it's all that harsh may that roots up shoestrings' yukon licorice sidewalking delusions of grandeur stop signs are trouble staked to stand disguised as martyrs white and red disguised as is lost is gone is dead is end
Anxiety can be about missing the chalkmark of presumed perfection. She would fear the daylight would not shine enough. By knowing the Platonic place against the wall, she notarized mistakes as they occurred, and recognized the difference between bliss and threadbare faultlines. When we talked there was a row of patterns, each one themed around her disappointment. Once depth showed its insufficiency. Once inductive reasoning hosted a marginal distinction between summa cum and flowerbeds not full grown. There were so many things to talk about. I have a tendency to see neutrality as wealth. I look through rain and there is solace in the rubbed branch lines against a silken airlight. She was soft, her skin sweetened a place the fiddle would not reach. I often broke the silence if that means something to you. No matter how the flowers got here, they would be hers always.
Saturation still to do with marketing a thing, enlistment of component parts, including sky
faulty fingers lead to risky hands break apart the noise on the horizon the wail of metal neighborhood expands and contracts opens legs like scissors
there's this dream i'm in it's always her birthday there i'm always moving furniture out of my eyelids into the drawing room menacing shag carpet drank some bad fuel
utopian nausea in our headlights stains stains the bedding an out of sorts expression pudding stains the bedding struggling releasing i'd rather be ahead of me in several places
any if Susie a daisy was when i plucking pluck, pluck, pluck went i into Ye Olde Non Words of love me not me green loves she not she now bubbles among froths of homes' Michigan blankets lakeside neural conjuring gone fingers & spells an a-u-t-o man lame from what running to ward off the Watusi again camo backpath the duck! blind silence of shotguns outgun the gunmetal Lethean shore passed the nonreturnable moment of snare our quarry (now obvious) bell- beats away the cartoon canine tee-he-hees his glee
how they picked their role-model companies how you would launder money and hide it how they help each other overcome their personal weaknesses by relying on the other’s personal strengths how corrections were made by striking out a faulty passage in ink and stamping the correction in the margin how private detectives make up stories on the spot and have to adjust how to force people to download PDF documents (or other formats) rather than how he got drunk and threw up how the therapist evaluates and interprets dreams phantasies etc. in the absence of a personal analysis how everything actually started how to avoid disastrous (and embarrassing) how ice cream came to be how to tackle instead how you became a travel editor how they see them of how they interpret their gestures how to traverse it how your mother and everybody knows you were how she came to write it how the "inertia of history" how to actually construct the park what materials you will need and how to acquire how the various borderline thinking mechanisms work how amphibians contribute to human medicine how much the Air Force truly knew about the UFO phenomenon in the 1960's how to succeed in science how fragile he really is despite all how pissed you were how a sleeve should look like how the primitive envious feelings are revived how people see how her life drifted into drug use and general lack how he runs upstairs at midnight after a new show to read the reviews how changes in the grammar of a unit within how a university responds how things got so messed up would be a small book
On May 3 1978, Gary Thuerk, a marketer at the now-defunct computer firm Digital Equipment Corporation, sent an email to 393 users of Arpanet, the US government-run computer network that eventually became the internet. It was the first spam email ever.
He jettisoned from the net forever. They killed his Avatar somewhere in the out world of second life when the World of War craft hordes came calling for him to invoke the infocalypse.
When I met him on the train he was almost pwned. The Debian tattoo throbbing beneath his cheek identified him as geek godfather. Those misshapen eyes represented the last of the best cyberpunk warriors operating on the old net. His frazzled appearance on this train could only mean one thing. The countdown to the infocalypse had been triggered.
“We don't have time,” I said to him. He gave me the nano disc as the first spasms rocked his slim frail body. Fear dripped from his eyes as he waited for my antidote. It came in the form of a script I had written on one of those nights when sleep is a mere distraction in the grander scheme of things. It was the most beautiful code I had ever written. It was also the most dangerous.
He copied it quickly into his handheld that magically appeared out of a geek pocket. I tensed when I saw it. Possession of that technology meant that you were either the most wanted black hat or an agent in the highly feared world's cyber division. He looked like neither with his hands trembling over the keyboard as he ran a series of tests on my script.
“This is not a quick fix,” I said. He nodded understanding. “My code will reverse engineer the first part of their Trojan. You will have about ten minutes to puke it all out. Only the spam bots will come out. You will have to hack your own dreams to find the source code and delete it.”
He smiled for the first time revealing the designer teeth of true deep net junkies. There were only a few shops on the planet where you could get these specialized encrypted jobs done. The teeth hooked you straight into the Metaverse on the fastest internet connection not even the richest man on earth could afford. It was all about trust and skill and nothing else.
Another spasm rocked him. I nodded for him to begin the compiling of my code. It would either fry his mind or free him. He hissed when the wifi connection of his teeth jacked into the handheld. There was a moment of suspended digital animation and then he hit enter on the keyboard.
He screamed beyond terrifying. It was the most inhuman sound I have ever heard. It penetrated deeper than I ever wanted life to. It sounded like death itself finally triumphant over the last vestiges of our fragile stubborn existence.
“Damn damn damn man. Shit what the hell is happening to you man?”
He answered with more screams and retching except nothing was coming out.
“Talk to me man, talk to me soldier!”
“They got him good huh?”
“What what the hell? I whirled around. A frail man stood there with the eyes of Einstein.
“You are so right man,” he quipped. “He's got their hell inside for sure.”
“What the hell are you?” What are you talking about?”
“We are their slaves now. We are the tech indentured servants man.”
“Stop talking bullshit man the infocalypse has not started yet. They need his brain.”
“Alright,” he said opening an identical handheld like my screaming friend's own. “Come and see for yourself.”
I saw but still wouldn't believe. My primitive brain refused to even consider what I was seeing on the screen. It was at once beautiful and terrifying. I gasped and shuddered as I witnessed the fateful reprogramming of the human interface.
Everything Simultaneously/Please Remind My Molecules
cellular openings. the fifteenth galaxy refuses to be silent
and then splitting us to flicker teeth, the crystalline horizon as flesh to where it is all imagined
Oil of Concubine/Equation the Skull's Mosque
increasingly, iam an apostle, the sea's stroke of genitalia. it's cracked now, like ghosts, its messiah a blank mind. i still admire your electronics, how they swim so effortlessly through the boulevard of my hair. female rhetorics the formed eye, swung softly, quickly into lofty, cosmic tongues that window alchemy
approached lunacy, the pop of vivid socketry here once, leftover hydra narrowed between slits and history
Iam Only An Hour/Long Semen Below
catechism jazz. we danced moths and the paraphrase, so broken jaws wandering the library's lonely coagulate over rain times wings, hunger, curling days. she purred her arms to me, the way epistemology means a golden calf, trellis enough for two
petals that dial much more than focus mode. siblings to molten the city's mission to Mars. token abdominals, variants assembled in twelve hours or less, Trotsky below fahrenheit's pile of choked meat. my oxymoron extracted velour from her orgasm and prodded earth from her theories, long-forgotten moistures her parted constellation to sift through the swelling
Four Vialled Abstractions
the vague delivers ancient roads to tangent again
red dreadlocks are a serum to me, warm and finally
parallel to holes that light up whenever her pyramids
fractal, two for the price of one
purple harmonies return optically, a money plucked in dissonance, lust from the trees that triangle and scrape her vulva. the jargon is barefoot, dressed in a trace of air. adrenaline not meant to decode, shaken manifestos directed against bones that froth between our fingers. spirals of devotion, and i fly faster into gaping eyelashes, all images received while hiding in time's shared source, glossed bones and nodded contour. gestures data their arrogant signs of neon bleeding sighs and hymns for marrying carbon's other computer in my brain
Crucified Machines Diurnal The Fabric of Geomancy
try to believe effervescence isn't a dinosaur, chides and overhang, as visceral as the meaning of space.
iam already a new literature, a smile seeing some blondes today, oh boy.
glass shards whisper the new paradigm, ecstastic howls that menstruate ancient violins and hue beside her on the bed.
doesn't anyone soak their allure in the platinum of nevermind anymore?
populating banquet halls forever - pupils in the colors affordable - like pills you'd never summit - nerve endings on a dead-end rain disco - where's some time ago - felt that night smoking cigarettes' distribution of loneliness - speed like emotions - no wonder nothing gets done - am i aware of this? - celebrating infinitely - sight runs along - branches that teacup - a million years impassable - shoulders crossing under huge black clouds - springboard of void flowers - street linger lights hint nights uptight once there were snowflakes
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