no future.


the synthetic waif lies beneath the barricades someone is fucking her she does not appear to care I don’t have language for this.

the function of this fucked child as symptomatic of the revoution forces projection into the Real it knows it’s Fake.

fuck the waif fuck the orchestral & all hell loosed of its jewelry unfurled.

identified queer on a letterpress & so tight with god we can collectively terrorize all fine. make a move towards concern a pattern implanted upon the consciouness and wrapped a sentence.

The World eventually will collapse restricted usefulness to the present.

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