Caught in the realm of a far greater society,
she would never taste true love on earth,
so she would have to travel.
Samsungs sorrow was held somewhere deep
within her forgotten past.
She fretted over the little things
she never got to do
and lost herself in replaying
every single angle.
Endless nights of tossing and turning
and revisiting feelings
through her subconscious left her lost to panic,
alone and in the dark.
She could hardly ever make out a discernable song
but none the less it was played,
by a man four billion light years away,
who she would never actually know.
From head to toe electrified,
and sanctified by reason
the ever knowing thought bot senses
wrinkles in that fabric that we knitted.
Call the tailor and get him sewing
for mans to good to be ****.
And there we leave the nameless patterns
of neural activity sufficiently spoken for.

Calico drones line fences and gates
resurrected from old motherboards.
Iron and silicone in contrast with
the decrypted analog sound bites
made from mothers tears.
The lucky village idiots
smoke chloroform cigarettes.
And they all miss the carnage.
The unlucky idiots smoked anything
they could get their grubby lips on.
To be wakeful in the womb of schism
seems far more terrifying than parachuting.
But jump away little one,
for fear will make you mad
or it will make you stronger.

Mechanical devices accomplish frightful walks
with stronger essence than that of man.
Robot-humans being violated.
Recordings of digital warfare brighten screens
and index fingers strobe at the mouse.
Sitting around coriander garlands made for the dead,
captains place more meaning on life,
than death.
My fears are past and now,
I breathe new air into the meaning of humanity.
Heroes are so last year.
Higher standards take fruitful grasps
in the thighs of lower ones.
My position is in a place of disagreement
and the unsatisfied rumble in my tummy
will simply fade and be forgotten.

A cultural revolution is hiding behind the face of Tokyo’s finest geisha.
And she looks pretty.
"My underground, supersonic bullet train is faster than yours,"
she said with perfect symmetry in her smile.  
"Oh?", I said with american gusto,
hoping for a new lead on my future.
"It takes me to the rising sun, where new parties breed," she said again.
Her beauty and symmetry was even better than before.
Then, she told me something that I didn't know.
“Shark fin soup, kama sutras, and virtual *** go well together."
.

Nagasaki failed and the lotus blossom wilts.
But he will never see it that way.
A man of fire took his time to take the shot.
And when he dropped the bomb,
the demons choir took a break from deceitful melodies.  
Though they were never really heard
they still beat barrels of rice wine,
which they've converted to percussion ensembles.
The music of our souls flowing and swaying,
while our disembodied toes tap to the melody.
Never again, Nagasaki.
Never again.
Such travesty veiled by inhuman reason.
And I follow it to the end.

I'm poison and I’ve reached maximum saturation.
Molten mercury flows through my veins.
And you cannibalise me like hungry wolves.   
-
We lost our battles too many times.
So now children have to save the world
while mom and dad crash-land into Mars.
Today we see the future but the past is far behind us.
-
Sarcasms great reveal is that love is true,
while love looks right into my eyes and lies.
-
Heathens wearing heathen armor
clash sword and shield relentlessly against each other.
-
So while you say, "good luck" and wave your hand,
I clench my fist and remind myself,
*I don’t believe in magic.