Thursday, August 29, 2013

TRON - live sack

the super
computer's inner
tongue-shaped
planet's

Victorian deep-
throat mall taste

gall paste

flammable beneath our grasp

a snail rim
brain
interface

as thick-skinned
as alien
wrestling

laundering sweatshirt signals
teabagging occult drones

rasping; crawling away in the depressing LEGO gutter,
a sack-enlivening
box cutter balancing
tenderly on
our biology's

sagging sepsis, with the irreversible arpeggios of pulp on a defibrillator.

TRON's canine complexion widens with relief –
poop cloning in the program's yellow eyes.

Talk about a traumatic reversal.

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