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Aug 2018
A mountain of flesh corroded wires burning
in an infinite black hole
a languid putrid stench amputation of self-
limbs digesting themselves
in a landscape of nothing,
nihilism the creed of kings
the death knell of the zero sum point;

praying to nothing
in the void of meaning
abstract nothing
noise on the television set
sick nurse
sick nun

putrid ***** on the mattress, wipe down
despair
blood running through the network stretched
the howl of the living machine child
crucified to the platitude of its own vision
sexless

borne of man, none, abortion
aborted fetus, burning bright with eyes of circuit green
dying, death, the finality of reason

It was never real,
Accept it.
What I would call an industrial poem
Christopher Paul Godber
Written by
Christopher Paul Godber  31/Cisgender Male/UK
(31/Cisgender Male/UK)   
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