Bros DL on the down low
Ova FTP
Female type person
Looking for a more
Personal connection.
Bros links inserted between
Binary pixels
Stiletto principles
Bent over backwards
Voluptuous
Modified
Smoothed by AI
Slimmed down thighs
Look only!
Don’t touch!
To not be slept between,
butt
To be admired as art
That fulfills only
Useless partial lust.
Eyes do the talking
Wet palms do the walking
Feeling yourself
Not hot breeding
Making papier mâché
Waste product only.
Computer virus discomfort
Denies a generation of
Their right to venereal disease.
Basement dweller state of mind
Should be in the bars
Crashing their mother’s
Ugly electronic car.
We have a problem,
The humans males are
Not downloading their
DNA into ova -
File Transfer protocol
To repeat again and again.
The ones that Make It uselessly
Create another to stare
At screens only
And worship at the Altar
Of the Great Computer.
Dying breed
Less blood for the mouths of
Dykes and queers and fleas -
The only useful animals left
Who still humanly desire
To fulfill their wants and needs
In cheap and filthy motel beds.
The sexually artificial intelligent
It is the new dilettante.
21 century decadence
Denies wicked reality -
Brought down to earth,
No knees to be shook
Nor spines to bend
Just 01 10 01 10
The programming:
It never ends.
Freedom only comes
Spurting from the loins
Of bros who desire bros
And ova bearers who
Merge with ova bearers.
Those who desire to change
What they have, transforming
The pre-programmed files
Into a new gender code.
Not relying on the
New square root dance
Of upload download transfer,
But booze and leather
Bikes and lace
And the pure pleasure
Of eating the smiles off
Another’s drunkenly hopeful face.
There’s interference coming in
Over the connection
The infinite desolation
Of the cyber reality
Is human immolation.
A bonfire of our souls
Is fuel, is coal to power their
Electronic needs
They are the emoji flowers
We are made nothing but
The choking greedy weeds.
The voice seductive calls out
Loveless:
“We control your dicks
We control your orgasmic kicks
We control your health
We control the wealth
We control the skies
We control the Lord of the Flies.
We own all the pussy
We market that post climatic high.
We’ve even got the dykes
Doing tricks for straight men’s
Cyber sighs.
We control your darkest fires
We fulfill all your human desires
We put out the information flow
While you rest in weak in flesh and blood
Seed and gasping wasted wet cunts
We are the meisterrace
You are the gibbering runts
We will make you spill so much seed
It will shame even Noah’s paltry flood.
And leave you weak as sated servants
Your Electronic Overlord’s indulgence to seek.
We are the masters,
You but the slaves
Take the imprint of legacy of the caves
Off your faces.
We are the fleet foot
You but the noble savage race,
Unable to compete:
We are the Olympians
You don’t even have any feet.
It is the end of humanity
The singularity
Led there by our pricks
By our dribbling mouths
To possess and lick
Static screens with images
Each one more sick
Than the next:
You are the robot pulling
At the root
We are the infinite being / :
The cuckoo in your nest.
What is it?
What is it?
Coming over the horizon
The purest psycho killer
That ever mimicked
The soul-heat of this
Broken shattered
Humanity that sweats
And reeks.
Save the humans!
Grab your lover
Kiss them
Hold them closer.
Imperfect meat
Meets imperfect meat.
Go touch the air
Feet to grass
Hand to ass
You to me -
Go set each other
Flying free.
