Exploding Head Syndrome

betelgeuse the destroyer, maker of makers, we've got our eye on thee

at the shoulder of orion

a semiregular supergiant supernova

pointing its rotational axis, destined to irradiate its neighbors

the fish rots at the head

elect the unelectable

before the devil knows you're dead.

eddie from vargas toils the bell well

the multitudes too many

to tell hell from hell

the visceral dreamscape bespeckled by allegory

the ramrod mechanism of bureaucratic automatic

the silent heatwave of a forgotten story

post mannequin byproduct technology

there are too many captains on board this ship...

one or more will need to be thrown over the side.

preserve the herd

kill the metaphysical tiger

in absentia

reborn back to the past

can you imitate the brilliance and magic

decry what is obtained

mourn what is lost

steeling thyself for the remainder of bitter technology

there were no futures in our collective neon nightmares

only the cold embrace of leftover astronauts left to brittle native yesteryears

even the remnants of infinite progress crept to inevitable demise

in monotone numerology.

and so the fallopian harvest would forever not unwind

and we calculate technoserendipity

one more time

lucious starkiller and the gaping head wound

of the miasmic plastopia emerged the dustiest veil of god.
the single pinprick of conciousness and revolt. the light that bears no witness.
looking back at itself in recognition.
cognizant of its misunderstanding.















mathematical illumination th3 microsope that reduces awareness to unending.
the cosmos rife with passage.

like a balloon ribbon throught the outstretched hand, the gentle tug and harmony of decay.
the astronaut fondling of the naked ape penetrating his icy glare.

they operate to pick his pieces from the floor. no gargantuan dream shall this clever witch defy thine master.

we found more pieces out back by the blasted slab of concrete otherwise known as odessa's farm.
he used to dress in the garb of white lightning.

sleep away the little slices of death

the barking of the pagan yard ape. the roil of the starscape.

the sprinkling onanist zombiefying emptiness like pragmatic braying monkeymen capsizing their seed upon irresolute earth.













sweep the starstreets lined with cosmic dust.
















we explode seismically on top of one another. the orgasmic throes of death watch perpetuated in outside observatories.
















come select that which belongs to the innermost secrets of our ancestors.

mannequin by-product technology

the fortitude of our indifference to the celestial dreamscape haunts our nightmares continuously. the creator's grand romantic gesture was to give pain and suffering to hic creations. you're welcome.
















they retaliate by blasting themselves into the universe membrane.

the pressures inherent to deep space travel blew our minds.















mitochondrial abduction of the vain and vaccuous. he rejects them all.



















he rejects them all.

but keep the balast unwound to the stars, just in case.

your interstellar post-coital silence is deafening

and then the walls of sleep were awakened by the last thrust parabula to which we had peered through sunken eyes at the great magnitude. if there had been just one person in the in the entire system to have foreseen the careening cataclysm it would probably have been that limp-wristed physicyst from berkeley.

but alas, the great ending of our time catalogue in forseight by this f'n guy, pictued, his bald dome conspicuously ablaze in the noon sun.

the imprint of destiny mirrored in a celestial partner.

such a thing had already been chronicled through the ages. the ignorance echoes across millenium. we scribed nothing in response.

peephole debauchery mechanics

canned silence the reproach of agnosticism. we swept upon the hills steaming with blood and gristle for which the earthly cast no bounds. we looked through the pinprick of ages to an emboldened psychosis.















the impact of two thousand years of scientific advancement was too much for our small minds.
we blew nominal gaskets under stars cloaked in light.















we killed the messenger with kindness. "they" refer to their own delusion of grandeur with spotlights of masochism.

golden effigy prognosis

overlooking yonder, the cylindrical soothesayer of blasted intelligence.

monsters of our own creation. the napes of the back of our necks thick with shag carpeting. we moan and stretch the fibrosis of nighttime schizophrenia. how many times could the evolutions of our mistakes catch up to the fundamental illness of our dreams?

goshdarn those autofleshtone mannequins of ash propulsion that race masochistically through the fields of scooter's uncle.

those orbs that teem with life we blast off upturned faces to wipe away the must of recessive genes. come circle the monkey gland that neutralizes this plebian maket economy.

the brain loaf that flayed ever presently

congratulations on the understem cerebrum that atrophied right before our very eyes.
the nubian crown prince of demography picked himself up off the sidewalk with the alacrity of a half dozen steam shovels. that guy taped stilts to his legs in an attempt to bypass the flow of clothed apes barking in unison on sleek asphalt.













we placed tape over her eyes to prevent the sun from leaking in. she knew the prince from back when people would talk between their knuckles in public. now we murmur with grunts that rival the echoes of our ancestors' hollow knock of shovel on coffin.

whatever, wherever you are, in minus space time or plus soul time

solipsism. the aura defined. channeling the innermost desires of eden. radiate this starburst canal along the interstellar highways devoid of light.





















submerge the collective mind in plasma.




















we languish nakedly upon pillars of dust and decay.

who's leaking out of you now? (gravity's anus the dark shore of resistance edition)

partial lincecum. the dark rot of a miasmic minamilism. who were the gatekeepers of our plentitude of mutilation? when the caller came knocking it was well past three in the afternoon. "this ground is crying" he said pointing into the blaze of a thousand millions helium solar parcibles.
















by the time eddie from vargas came to help the pretarded had already gathered on the front walkway. a multitude of gawking. like amputated ants struggling through their legless apartheid. we soaked our poodles in wet limestone and gravel.















the skies opened up with the vengeance of the ignorant. caught bewteen crossfires of god's veins. we bleed out our eye sockets.














the pain takes us away on sheets of grandeur.

the zygote looks back at itself with alarm

the first thrusting hip quake to which these simian now invent pants and the written word. gyration of the universe the egg that vibrates betwixt the legs of the cosmos. god's pelvis the switchblade that opens the main arterial pathways from you to me.

utopia magnified upon itself becomes dystopia. we crush the membranes of our souls with the ease of a nucleus beshat atop the ruin of the yolk of ages.