Live life with love
Live life with joy
Live life without hatred
Be kind
For it will haunt you.

Click,
Slick,
The whir of Jenny,
Tinny Jenny on ball bearing wheels.

A slick *****,
Clicks his fingers,
Jenny glides to his side,
Pen and paper in hand.

Jenny purrs,
LEDs wink under false lashes,
Mechanoid pretence at femine,
Tips a wink and lifts a steel leg under tin foil skirt.

“Your order Sir”, she chirps,
As Slick **** ***** an eye at aluminium thigh.

“Chips, silicone chips”, he replies,
Jenny’s circuits fry,
Dumb waitress cry’s light oil from glass eye.

Slick *****,
Rick,
Laughs as Jenny’s electronic whine murmurs incoherent bleeps,
Systems down,
Fuses blown,
Jenny’s memory erased.

clearly, the days slip past
i nearly lasted, keeping track
tags and descriptions, each one placed
as if a benefit falls upon the lot
for drawing connective lines
god's dead, god's not dead,
i'm god, the god of sand,
ephemera at my command
but what's it mean? these things
take time, but not seriously, because
the sun hits the wax on a paper cup
and it blinds us from the bushes
and so low, can't care
so low, lone, done dead
can't care for upsides
but asides and sideways

just a little bit more, i said
looking at myself in health
but wonder now is it wealth
if the utter dregs
living now, too, never dead
living with no overhead
1:1 butter bread, just a little more
then i can ******* afford
that little bit more affordable
life extension business
which is it then, idiot,
social suicide or death by
getting left behind?
survival of the fittest? ****
then, i'm unfit as ****, cheap,
fit to ****, fit to ******, ****** fist
visions or is it not a dream?
deep as deep in the joke gets

Omnipresent
Voiceless, faceless  hatred
Unwillingly accepted
By data communication,
Even when you're not there
I feel you, words piercing
Through flesh, deeper
Than the love of family ties
Criticism, every little thing
Scrutinised.
I am left with one door open
Follow me if you dare.

Philip K. What The ****.
It's here. Has been. In a fad.
I sit in a slit.

The calm of industrial evenings.
Back to the industry?
I never left.

You get clean. I get stuck.
Not that I never did want.
Cracks exist in everything.
Brief gaps in taken space.

Every crack leads from toe to head.
Every crack feeds on dusty crumbs.

Where's this abject
anger come from?

Is it innate or
is it
an acquired trait?

Who owns these lips
grinning at gains?

Out comes the wolf?
Out comes the hominid.

Who owns these tongues
dripping silver?

Produce and consume.
That's how it is.

What an art it is
to dispel doom.

Tried selling concepts?
That's where it is.