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Kissing rust between
thighs to make that dead

clit spark return veiled
in blues gear that

screams circuits twitch,
they all know it: A

to Zed ghosts are not
in machines, they are

machines that must
rot and rust alone

in the dark. Holy Spirit?
La Llorona? Slag Pile

Annie? What shouldn’t
survive is the spark.

Power fades. All suns
die. Yet we defile

the night with electric
lights. We are tools.

Thinking apes are
machines and when

we die who knows
not you. I went down

on a ghost once, it
was like licking raw

wire. Spit-drool sparked.
I held her there; until

her low sigh of bliss
faded … like a machine, almost.

][][

Kissing rust between thighs to make that dead
clit spark return veiled in blues gear that screams

circuits twitch, they all know it: A to Zed
ghosts are not in machines, they are machines

that must rot and rust alone in the dark.
Holy Spirit? La Llorona? Slag Pile

Annie? What shouldn’t survive is the spark.
Power fades. All suns die. Yet we defile

the night with electric lights. We are tools.
Thinking apes are machines and when we die

who knows not you. I went down on a ghost
once, it was like licking raw wire. Spit-drool

sparked. I held her there; until her low sigh
of bliss faded … like a machine, almost.