surmounted infinity
polar singularity-
a point that twists

x,
then-
i

humans may not compute
third order thoughts

we, synthesizers
of moment and potentiality
hairless clever matchstick apes
inventing boomerangs
and then, stock exchanges

cogs with crises
serial number attitude disorders

we may doggy paddle our way thru the cosmos
we may eat each other alive
its been a hell of a ride

Fkn Weeb

in a quixoticistic sense
we are not found lacking
but do long for an end to endlessness

visions of grey crowds coagulate
the lab rats of statisticians
habituated to coagulated grey crowds
habituated to statistics

death am become news article
come of putrefaction indifference
life partitioned from non-life
growing from stagnated

the information of our age has not changed us

spirits made flesh
ghost operated organics
programmed; pristine

we confront

fractured assemblage ritualism
vacantly bored holes in billboard confessionals
mounting dull glossy vibes on the highway

it says

to eat our tails
pray for return to our pasts
and love our niche

**** that

here's to breaking the mold
here's to seizing the day

I will not wait

autonomous memetic devices

mewling absurdism after absurdism

incognito the non-sequiturs substantiate

administrative staff of the regaling suppositories

for all the good they will do you

you might as well shove them up your ****

crooked smiles and sporadic appearances
always with a bag of goodies to share
always just crashing the night
but also most of the day
the santa claus of unwelcome gifts
we welcome you to our house
but not what you bring with you
like why are you ******* bringing over some guy
who you think is stealing from you
it scares us man
we care for you

but you scare us without even thinking about it

its the kind of fear
that doesn't immediately look like what it really is

and the kind of habits
you can't see the way we see them

the kind of pain
you think you hide

the kind of person
we don't want you to become

it's never too late
but it's definitely too little
but also too much

you really are better than this
but you don't care
careening off the freeway and into the void below

just know
you don't have to live like this
there is always room to grow

terracotta jawbone hinges
grimacing insectoid mouthparts
cheeks of ivory
and a copper brow
with two ebony sockets for eyes
and an olive branch in its mandible

on the left-
one glorious black seraphim wing extends
casting a shadow as long as the bible

its right hand-
crooks a finger beckoning an emptied palm
the sound of an invisible coin pinging on the floor

as the pigs mill
between indolence and furor
their schism adheres to unspoken tenets

and it goes on
and it goes on
and it goes on