dead end horror of the centipede gods, hallucination wrapped in ill reason… colombian necktie sky explorations, tasting the poison preachings of the hypocrite madmen; prarie dogs at the throats of the roaming lost and ashamed…
licking the screen, decimated… bleeding out across the valves… lost ideals float downstream on rivers of dusty pollution… there is a policeman inside the sky… an endless dead gaze fixed in satellite orbit…
inside the imperial sarcophagus, a low moaning through the fractured blast-walls… wide-eyed cannibal populace eating themselves alive… waves of misery, misunderstanding and desolation…
‘…i am shot with wounds which have eyes that see a world all sorrow, always to be, panoramic and unhealable, and mouths that hang unspeakable in the sky of blood…’
6|6|7
