Stygian Salami

The salami wasn't catching

Or clicking into place but

It fixed itself eventually –

The curse of a wallflower

In circulation in concrete

Disengaged by honing the

Zombie fusion via a cave

That lacked contrast under

The umbrella of a fluorescent

Finger arching loosely like

The foul nuclear scalp of

A rubber chicken raping

The furniture –

A sadomasochistic Popeye

In sandbox frame rates

Slow as a mollusc encapsulated

By ghost town music

Swooning in its seductive

Pulp and killing Snoopy

In its fake Meggido lasers –

Antihero squirt like a

Disembodied piece of shit

In amphibious patterns of

A religion predicated on

Industrial glands in a jar

Necrophilia reserved for

The new dinosaurs, i.e. humans,

The entire ninja –

Fermenting gore measurable

By stygian social media

And the blasphemous data storage

Of a single scrotum