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.