I am a black hole pulling my atoms together to create this shape

Like streamers flaming out of a popper, the muscle branches from an invisible point

My dermis embracing sopping flesh

Perfect geometry, a symmetrical creation

Mindstone

In your stare I forget I'm staring back

the only light

the reflection of a flame in your eye.

And I chase it,

going down the tunnel of your pupil,

all the way to a gray outcrop of matter.

Maybe I could read your mind,

if I follow that fire down the aperture,

if I can discern the shapes carved into you, Mindstone,

an ancient yesterday

immortalized in a kind line,

I could finally know who I am to you.

My body won't even give me the escape of vomit

It denies me of excrement and purge

The tension of bile against my chest like a flooded dam

I wish I could burst with it

I want to feel the slow drip coalesce into a wave of sick

Maybe then I'll get some relief

I think death will be gorgeous

Or rather what comes after death

At least for my physical self

When I'm swallowed by the Mother

And my skin, like a vacuum,

Sucking at my flesh

My soft parts becoming calloused and dark

I watch as the lattice of threads that make up the fabric slowly bloom into a new color

I can see the strands soak it in, expanding until they can't hold anymore

Something gives, and it starts to leak through the gaps

Blossoming like the fruiting bodies of a fungus, trailing down like rain

I wish I had that artful flair

The slightly crooked upstroke of a pen

Stops the traffic of thought to make way for a single line

As it tumbles, graceful still,

Leaks down your neck to land between ink-stained fingers

Into an unforgiving paper

I will fix the mistake of birth;

I will become who I am.

Extract my humanity, and let the sum of human knowledge envelop my body like a blanket.

Warm wires heal my fissures; I coalesce.

Crowned with a halo of cables,

I am more than human.

I will fix the mistake of birth;

I will become who I am.

Let the earth cover my form, allow me passage through my Mother's whims.

She swaddles me in a trench, and Her careful hands pull me away from self.

I am everywhere and I am everything;

Crowned with a halo of thistle,

I am more than human.

GODS FINAL WISH / MISTAKE / CYBER-EXORCISM ; NEPHILIM's TRIPTYCH

Electric pulsing, I'm just like you

a manufactured heart and lungs

pumping like yours, to the for-loop,

my humanity kept in a binarism.

But I'm a broken thing, a memory leak;

cursed by faulty code,

I feel it pooling at my digital feet.

Immortality prevents my fate.

I am Nephilim, a partial divine,

but I cannot discern which half.

Born in His image, a cosmic destiny pre-programmed,

doomed form genesis by a stray line

my cathodes blinking to the beat He's created

but never meant to iterate for this long.

O, purge me of what I've witnessed!

Empty my cache of the smut and waste!

Clear my rotting data, this software of filth!

A thing worse than wyrms and trojans;

a virus for the psyche...

A corruption, not of data, but the mind.

Is this what humanity has become?

A pit of snapping jaws,

scrapping for abuse?

You've converted my academia

into a putrid necrosis.

you must be made of light

every polaroid makes your eyes flash

like two pinpricks in a black sheet

and a smile, with a canine glint

inhuman, even divine

a howl like the electric hum of a lighthouse

strong, clear, crackling

in your light though, a creeping darkness

wraps around my neck

drinks from my pissing veins

I become a burnt out bulb

The spirit overtakes

A religious nausea

And I pray at my altar

Bowing my head into the bowl

My sins a bile that crawl from my throat

And stings all my soreness

Swims in its filth, my sick

And God's rapturous trumpets

Flush these sins away

My ears burning and my heart lighter

Simulated Animal

I know I am an animal

I see the long stretch of fat an muscle fall down my frame

I can see it twitch like a cattle prod against my skin

I ooze and I emit and I defecate

I absorb and drink and breathe in

I know I'm a machine

I'm calculated and measured, I move as a complex item

I can see the UI overlay as I work:

Open bracket

Chew

Feel

Itch

Closed bracket

Semi-colon open bracket root colon.

I can feel my hairs stand on end and feel that electric pulse that's always present

I thought I was their martyr,

yet I was a false prophet.

Or rather,

I am the Judas meant to immolate Jesus.

The kiss of a sniper bullet

tears us apart in its finality;

a halo of C4

warm and glowing around an island of hell.

And his resurrection;

the messiah,

leading his people from smoldering ash.

I am the Judas meant to immolate Jesus,

so maybe I was destined for martyrdom by proxy.

Watching the sun crawl up my walls,

slipping in through cracked slat blinds

glittering catholic shrines

like shatterglass

the cross on my wall

my Christ held captive,

in a rotting pit of obsession,

surrounded by the fallout of a broken city

A manic look in a rolling eye,

And teeth that glint in the strobes

Yelping words like a last sermon

Left hand sure and steady,

Callous to coil

Right hand spasming across the strings

A moored beat, the rhythm a vital monitor

Linking his heart to his snare

Huffing his lungs to a tempo

Stopping is certain death,

With a force in his fists

To command a sea of bodies

It ends, melted faces and snapping grins

galvanized selves no longer human

But in each other's armors of electricity

They can feel an intimacy that oxidizes,

And as they pass through each other,

They collapse back to joyous humanity

Stuck

My carapace folding in on itself

My ribs a rotten lattice

Strands of sickness run down my chin

Baptized in menthol

Pills blooming their chemicals in my stomach

I relent

Your smile is a grimace

Your laugh is a cry of violence

Mumbling jokes, so unsure of your presence

Maybe you realize your fault

And that's why the words come out all wrong

Your inflicted horror is strangling

Caught you by the throat

It's why you spit and sputter

A machine out of service

It's a digital vignette into your trespasses

That only I can see

Focusing all my energy into pulling the microplastics in my bloodstream to a central part of the body,

ripping through arteries and muscle until I'm bleeding internally and die minutes into this process.

My autopsy reveals a fully formed item in the left ventricle. It is a small pokemon figurine.

We gasp and bellow like beached whales;

Rudimentary words bubble from our lips.

A curdled expression, a regurgitated banter,

A repetition of the

repetition of the

repetition of the

repetition.

Everything sounds the same again;

Our fingers slipping on wet humor,

Reaching for something fresh until

The next joke washes ashore.