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Festering Galaxy Fetish: I smash atoms for a living, and wrinkle neutrinos as a way to forget. I bought a new-fangled circle (now with edges!) Its contours are the living end to my dead beginning. That half-alive spectre can scare the chickens out of my mouth any day. There is no indication that gurgling will prevent facial features/no one’s counting. Where are the drones that sell out and buy into everything? When bent, their entrails cause a sticky, flavorless sauce to erupt on the skin. More of a universe than a face, really, it’s just of matter of letting fusion take its course and teach it, too, all the while breathing flammable ointment into the stratosphere like a climax control freak, believing only what the interwoven boudaries consider ostrich-derived. If only each spin of the Earth was really a revolution, we’d all be percussive explosions of goblin juice by now, drinking from the sexually suggestive fountain of Neverlast.
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