a juicy sterile compilation of bricobrak
you can run around it for hours but crush it in your fingers in milliseconds
it sounds dry all around it
but the good dry
like coming inside after a storm - your bed socks waiting to slide onto your toes
you want to touch it, to feel it, to lap it up in all your senses
are you scared of it? the mechanical, clinical looking limbs stretching perilously into the expanding cosmos
do you become it? locked in a trance your mind entangled with the complex machine and the aura it emits.
sipping on your gentrified protein smoothie you accidently enter the chaosmos. lost in what you thought was shoreditch you’re stumbling through the glitch.
left?
right?
hmmm.
soul-data is evaporating all around you and you wonder how to remove yourself from this hallucinogenic hell.
DONT. it’s the only safe space left.
