Author: bass

The acid flow of ideas eating through the neural pathways
dendritic lightening tightening the bonds but will it esterase the base of the glitch
the itch

etching its way through the fractal road practical stowed in the crevices
psychic ceviche but there is no lime
ticking in the aftermath when there is no time

taste the acid etching through the crevasse under the corpus callosum, widening the divide between what we calculated and what was chosen

Sour thoughts and smooth brains talking about soft hands and black stains on lung scans but not enough miles on my airplane scans to smoke a camel in quicksands…

Where were we?

susurrations of scales over sands expands the bands of spectrums still unseen in the violence of the liquid scream
the only comfort in the taiga is the lack of scales and thermal vision, making the frisson of fear of the enlightening one

the glowing son

the burning sun

am I the only one?

But this fertile garden now frozen in fear, the fertilizer steaming in the fresh fallen ice
looking for the navigation device
or just the vice
that drove the motor
the engines
over the edge

the irony of freezing to death staring into the eldritch fusion reactor we call god.