E. Howard Hunt

citizen product. litters of fates sobbed Kessler's syndrome. amputated, waiting. bubbling foam introjected a bone fang of hyperplasias like a psychophysiological melanoma projecting a behavioral metastasis.

thank you, operator logic. without compassion, we abnegate to possess. like a science of seeds and soil, the moisture laments a universal ripple into a swelling cancer bypassed in a biopsy of critical napalm devoured by a projective stillness. hope grafts delusions to the mesenchyme of a reductive religion. debasing the divine in an imanence of bundled tendencies to transcend. god will save us from a cascade failure in a procession of spectators peddling the spectres of fear.

the rhetoric of the shadow begets the dialectics of the shadowed. i can use my tears to drive you out of your blessed mind. everyone who's ever had a heart has turned on it the moment it broke. Marduk has evolved into a sobering madness. overtuned in cool molecules bouncing off the boundaries of a collapsing wall. he swallows the future of an unknown genotype whose unnamed scent dispossesses the phenomenalogical vomit of a dizzied magic.

we are the dead. light pours from our eyes. we hide behind stars. we eat lunch with atoms. we bounce off mirrors. you collect us in your breath. & sheathe us in wreaths. & flowers decorate our heaven. from which there is no return.