insect.christmas ʚïɞ

 insect.christmas ʚïɞ

   writings - status:

   sometimes i get the itch to write smoking a cigar !!

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turnaround, zapped.



    throughout the rancid jungle, the perilous rocky brains, and tripled cockatoo plants, thrusts Eo out of a sewer pipe; the sewer pipe threaded like a janky screw. Eo is surrounded by 3 empty-looking space lobsters, each holding large sex toys and pairs of scissors. 5 meters north, as Eo is pelted with the water from the pipe shaped like broccoli, is a [SNIFFER]. Eo analyzes left and by the time they reach right gets bonked seventeen times from each crustacean, shattering her bones like twisted atoms splintering.. Eo falls.

    meet Onn, a tabloid-plastered fungal arithmetic machine formed from scrap, bone and PCB board. this creature inhabits a crust above, a step above the pipe and piss. Onn is surrounded by 3 empty-looking space lobsters, each holding large sex toys and pairs of scissors. 5 meters north, as Onn is pelted with the water from the sink shaped like onigiri, is a [SNIFFER]. Onn analyzes left and by the time he reaches right gets bonked seventeen times from each crustacean, shattering her bank account and sicking her to the meatheads outside in the dew.


forming spores.



    sometimes through a bunch of cords & wires is a little her. a little her that sings and sees things. and that's okay. wow, what a wonderfully pretty her. her intestines are full of cracker jacks, peppercorn & fizzy soda. when people pass her, they wonder where her eyes are really looking and sometimes men even push her up against the wall. sometimes she gets a little too personal.

    do you think fireworks could turn to liquid? she doesn't. she doesn't think about the inner mechanisms of someone on the street's mind. she doesn't. and she doesn't look out the window and make sure no one's watching. she doesn't do that. thousands of ants crawling into her ear vibrates that brain until it puses. beetle larva spend time in lava sparkle physics 'til the gut rots. and the fungus perseveres this sort of crackle magic. a grapple in a morgue can flip society upwards towards a neon citrus twist.

    boredom festers in a thundershock. humans congregate in vats. candle pools wax down through a wire-breath screen in the human's lips. and in return, the candle lets you touch her flame. digital circuitry is meant to be installed back there. that's why she assembled her like a doll, putting a necklace on a porcelain plate. she propped her up, sitting real pretty. does she want to eat the lawn clippings?


orcinus.



    you fall really, really, really, really, really fucking deep into a starfish right? you're in each fucking arm, every five-pointed pore.

    you envision the lightwaves wash over the sand. you look up and see the upside-down triangles swim, the circular fixture, and the boats with killer whales boarding them. (conquered)


pretzel.



    people want to twist you!

    really, they want to fold you!

    eventually they'll even knot you! caress you!

    tongues touch sometimes...

    zap! ouch! was that a fucking man-eating bug?

    every fucking man-eating bug: say hello to my sparkled rifle! BLAST! BLAST! ZOOM! SMACK!

    lavender scents flood the brain and create a flower bed for the dendrites to grapple.