IXXI

Within the whirlwinds of malice the twisted
industrial erotica will prevail. Reaping the
tides of evil’s infrastructure, the plasma-pools
of direct perversion of the soul seems merely
as a dream. – One of complete and utter horror.

Now cradled like an infant in mother’s arms...
The wish I have in mind is euphoric and terrific
regret for not having been a stillborn.
To have been nothing whatsoever.

And I know it’s all psychotic
And I know it’s all in vain
In fact you should be pretty fucking happy
I’m not more than thus insane