GALLERY OF THE PERVERSE

SPECIAL SWINGING LITERARY INSERT FROM ASPIRING POET LAUERATE hypnokrishna TO BE INGESTED AND PROCESSED
(hypnokrishna appears courtesy of HYPNOKRISHNA GLOBAL MINISTRIES)

there are spirits trapped in the buildings, and we are running out of spirits. the afterlife had to shut its doors. we live day to day in a singular file, and there are those who shuffle the deck of cards. but we are here as a tribute to some forgotten space traveler's sense of achievement of planting the roots into the soil and letting it grow. some say we are nothing more than a construct, we are an aspect of a grander flicker of a greater mind. some say we damned ourselves when we took up agriculture, and raised flesh for pleasure in the barnyards, the suburbs, and taught our children how they'll always fail themselves. apostles in third-world manufactured riot gear, my mother was allergic to teargas, the afterglow of a germ warfare epidemic, the wet rags and the bleeding eyes, prisoner rape and tapped phone lines and fire-bombed squats the homeless impaled outside the city gates rotting in the summer heat all the summer homes were looted and vandalized but the price of gasoline dropped and then the stores all ran out of food and people turned against themselves nobody ever knew what it meant to starve but there's workcamps out in the midwest somewhere hidden across miles of mountains and forests they've preserved where they'll ship the volunteers who are tired of struggling against them and they'll feed them and clothe them and give them things to do until old age and retirement come along but the rest of them will have to eat their own babies and trade home brewed narcotics for blankets and guns everyone knows one day they'll see an army marching in to try and achieve some sort of tribulation
---end transmission

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