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a union of metals, a marriage of wires, a fusion of decks

October 25, 2013

i crack the seal
and half the kingdom.
besides, the place is just
a ratmaze.

inside, the hat man pulls off
his night glasses,
and two icons follow.

i saw her death coming
masturbating where the best could manage.
the hacker was taken care of.
his cuffs were straightened.

i was married here,
where the guard was back already.
she’d grown extra arms
and her dance was undulating.
bitterly she said,

“i pay them a thing
in miniature,
a hatchet faced girl
dancing on stage:
our little baby
and our dirty laundry.”

it is her icon
supposedly long retired
activating your self destruct routine.

it’s dark for me.


cut-up piece generated by prosaic from a corpus of 30 cyberpunk novels. a part of the cyberpunk prophecies series.

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