Eloi 1d

by crimson drop,
contaminated blood flows,
down onto
his buried bones.

                                                         ­                   a painting born from blood,
a child with dreams of death and mud,
                                     bodies made of severed tongues,
dust and dirt fill their lungs.

mouths sewn up,
eyes sewn shut,
intense listening,
whispers of their deathly scriptures.

nothing known to them of mortality,
endless pain,
endless death.

You're always saying "I mean of course I love him... he's my dad". You should see your face when you say that. You don't light up, your hands don't get warmer, your heart doesn't skip a beat. Nope, you say "of course I love him... but..." and your whole face sinks. Tell me all about how great he is then! How he hit you, how he comes home drunk. On the phone yesterday you said "love you" before hanging up and... he just laughed.

Blood doesn't equal love. Even your family can betray you.

Nightmares have become my dreams.
I dream about dying, leaving this world.
I dream about razors, bathroom floors and never waking up.
But it's the same thing isn't it? Dream about the razors, bathroom floors and pills, wake up and see the razors, bathroom floors and pills.

Red on the floor.

Tiles can be mopped clean, water and cloth. Skin can be healed, stitches and bandage.
Blocking out the voices, ear buds.

But blocking out the voices in your head? Only one solution for that one.

Thanks for reading!!!
Ari 3d

I think I would like
To write the word “love”
On the inside of my forearm,
Over the cracks in my porcelain fraud,
So that the letters might fill the gaps
And color what lies beneath.

I’d like to stain my fingertips with love,
And trail them along every wall,
Over every surface I pass,
So that I never leave anything more
Than the gentlest admiration
In my wake.

I’d like love to tint my eyes
Valentine heart red,
So that I might be blinded to hatred
In all it’s ugly forms,
And instead see only gentleness
In the eyes of strangers.

I’d like to cast my spine in love’s steel,
Because I know damn well
It is anything but soft.
And let it stand me up tall
Let me never be ashamed of it
In any form it comes.

Fill my veins with love,
Pump it through my body
Like heroin’s newest form,
So that I can get high on the idea
That everything is made of pure

Perhaps it beats for
The lust engraved among it;
As ventricles sing,
And as blue flows from the veins,
My love beats proudly for you.

A blooming life grows
Among the healthy green vines
Of the strands inside,
Each with buds from flowered flesh
That blushes brightly through skin.

Skin of the petals,
A rosy kiss that glows on
Much past the garden;
Past the bark of ashy trees
And past the shielded ocean.

My patches, dancing.
Swaying in the soft, crisp wind
To keep on chiming.
Had it not been a lush breeze,
My heat would then carry on.

For whom I seek touch,
My heart yearns for crimson thoughts.
For whom I sway long,
Past the forest of my mind
In the roots of my true wants.

Sandoval 3d

I bleed words not blood.

So, if you hurt me. I'll scar

verses not wounds.


in the old neighbourhood

I had never felt more beautiful
and unafraid.

But I am afraid now
as you stalk near.

My words are naked babies
and I must run.

Swifter beasts than me
have not survived

the chase
across the savannah.

You too struck
quick as lightning.

Do they willingly give up
their bodies and blood?

Are they all too happy
to submit to death?

But I,
I just wanted to get out alive.

Data 4d

We have re-entered the plaza
and amidst the throng
blend as a smudge of colour—
[we are] vital, vibrantly swirled through the scene
[we are] psychedelic pink sugar lines
struck through white peppermint candy canes
In a moment, we come again…

But this artifice of joyful interconnection
is not as solid as it might seem
—by those ghosts we have joined hands
they, who coexist within this cable,
I can feel you, I feel you…


O yes, I lived on the edge
in the age of america

(Bless us, Father…)

As he comes into manhood, I am born again, gleaming
with the blinking sheen of chromed Cadillac off my arse:
high-styled, immaculate, moon-dealt daydreams
etched on this shrine’s shiny walls,
screen-printed teeshirts
wild-flapping in dusty wind,

Too many flies
the stench of death
on rotting flesh,
In the backseat & littering the roadside
a million empty aerosol cans

I, permitted to drop such a bomb… implode
settling… transubstantiated… postmodern
beyond death and life…
I, a digitised analogue
or microwaved noodles
seething like a can of worms—
i eat, i eat, but it is never enough…

O yes, I am the vanishing point
captured simultaneously on this 16mm Bolex
dyadic before, during, and after the singularity collapse.

We all got old, eventually,
golden ages paid for
with stoved ideals & broken-promised half-truths

At the end, we digitised handprints
and handshakes simply so that we
would not feel
each others heart beating,
or blood pulsing
or the wet damp of sex in our pants

In the end,
it was all about endlessly becoming
without noticing how or why,
In the end,
all I wanted was ice cream at Serendipity’s
and Sunday-papered propaganda,

Oh yes, I lay on the edge of infinity
staring at the fat Buddha’s navel
my breath connected to the breath of the stars
and I wondered:

I am, you are, but we, oh yes, WE!


by Data © 2017

Ode for Andy

My heart beats wild and without rhythm
as your tender fingerpads brush
my embered cheeks.

Yet I want to claw the skin you touch
til my face is set ablaze with blood.

I yearn for the blood burn of your lips
at the base of my neck,
breath warm and sweet as tea.

Though I grip my neck in despair,
choking that you cannot love me.

Every time I catch your gaze,
tensions rise from the pit of my being
like freed birds.

Still my eyes run as late spring rivers
as your tongue cuts me like fresh poultry.

My mind flurries with crisp thoughts of you,
each gentle and pure as fresh snowfall.

Nonetheless, I can only endure
the blue-limbed blizzard of self-loathing and blame
that should not be mine.

Toes curl in ecstasy
like vines in bright sunlight as we become one,
how I always dreamed.

Now my dreams turn to nightmares
as my blistered toes carry me mindless through
the desert of complete isolation.

My own warm fingers brush your face,
down the slow slope of your nose
to the petals that are your lips.

However, they hover,
unsure that the frame they grace
contains the paradox I love.

membranes bleed in classic fashion
seep into my brain with passion
pump my heart with fuel and tension
feeling like a villains henchman

blow me baby, how did i know?
one more chance to powder my nose
i see whiter than the snow
and i dont know how far i can go

mr rogers asks for entry
everything gets past the sentry
powdered sugar makes me antsy
for whatever suits my fancy

im too focused for my brain
all the colours look the same
bow to gods that i dont need
if it'll cause my nose to bleed

blow me baby, how did i know?
one more chance to powder my nose
i see whiter than the snow
and i dont know how far i can go

blow me baby, how did i know?
one more chance to powder my nose
i dont know how you could appose
i'll just lay here taking several blows

i need you cause i want you bad
the sweetest girl i've ever had
is whiter than the winter's snow
i love it when she's in my nose

oh, i've been told to get in line
that my whole lifes a waste of time
but i've got everything i need
as long as i can do the deed

blow me baby, how did i know?
one more chance to powder my nose
i see whiter than the snow
and i dont know how far i can go

blow me baby, how did i know?
one more chance to powder my nose
hardly straight, no arrows bow
an early start for whole new lows

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