Hatred in manifest, its unintent entirely sure,
Mirrored within false truths, worlds locked
And applicability loaded, ammunitions staring down
The barrels of guns, initiate existentialisms
Disregarding gains, attentive only on wounds where
Parallels only existed when transtemporal travel
Sparked alternate strains, spreading discordances
They’d impress, “Imma arm bar yo esses so hard.”
Noted actions not taken into account while they’d
Blame everyone else except themselves, trying
To decipher a soul, failing to see reflections and
Correcting their mistakes, setting reminders
To scout out only fucking crazy sadistic ass holes.

Moro Cut – Mad Zach, yunis

Where We’d Become

Contained in the rule of the human constant,
Notions in futuristic obsessions overlooked
Supplanted interpretations, beneficiaries writ
Fastidious stimulus consumptions within
Limbic systems, ill composed in compositions
Uretic excretions so fucking focused on
Singularity, exceptions when the locus
Of liability fell on the hideous inclination of
Collectively passing judgment, failing
Kinesthetical studies, opting to optically
Gloss over visions in insanity, prioritising
Yet another self-indulgence in disappointment,
Falling apart for the sake of humanity?

Disgusted at the being (above).

Radio Protector – 65daysofstatic

Initial Translation

“..memories came back..
But.. good things.. there was not a single thing
Return.. a place.. didn’t exist anywhere
..didn’t exist anywhere.”, she struggles.

“These things can be illusive,” they soothe,
“Timeless places are replaceable and can be rebuilt.”

“But.. it wouldn’t be the same.”, her voice tight.

“They may not be the same..” they pause, distraught,
“But there would be other good things.”

They diverge in an event that could not be explained
By anything other than, nothing short of a miracle,
Shrinking into black holes radiating eudaemonic
Principles in justifications in the past and present,
Tense, placing souls back into pre-orbic parts.

Matcha – Makoto San


Still feeling in disordered cortical folding,
On this tedious purple prose tale unfolding
Talks in unfurling abstract languages, safe
Yet not really, kept valued humblenesses
Optically, when lovely customary vocaloids,
Nonsensically trusting without confidence,
Pacing, placed pieces without hydrocolloids,
Listlessly, regretfully awaiting, but afraid.

Sarcastically, to a fault within, while wondering
When varied apathetic boredom would kick in,
Poignantly focused in a tired shaded history,
Lazing about in romances in attention deficiencies
Purposes trying in unwanted reassurances,
Canned gently in bittersweetness.


Clichés in resounding recurrences effortfully placated,
Aroused fading sequences dismembering personifications,
Conversing observational knowledge ill-humorously in fields
Skeptical, dedicated to an acuity, they repetitiously differentiate
Nuances, ascribing meaning in estranged speech, derivatively
Reducing manipulation hurtfully out of practical application,
Making realisations in foreign incompletes, seemingly ironic,
A bit awkwardly, slews demanding angrily in respect to
Reevaluations in human relations unsexily, virtuously
Thwarting pushed throes of nonsensically handed oppositions
Budding desire only ambitiously listening to their vocalisations
Diminutively simplifying attributed qualities in categories
Urging mnemonic recipients, extracting from innuendos
Undermining studious advances that went awry, astraying
Gilded memories of real yores, painfully in their diminuendo.

Paused – Kiasmos


Cute robots timidly lay treasured stones
Covered daintily in djembe skins, ensnared
Wantonly in a circle, but because visions ruptured
They were enveloped, unable to see their version
From a perspective, not quite making the cut,
So when mediating alkaline bodies, full of shit,
Derisively mentioned the lopsidedness, they
Decided to adjust, percussively nudged
With their little robot nubs, measuring up
Metronomic distances in metres, bothered
By measurements, they start over since
They intelligently made the call that it was
Better than staying stuck there forever,
Questioning the components of every thing.

Lullaby for Little Spoon – Pete Kuzma

Some Joke

She contemplates traveling down roads
Lined by oaks in spectral ranges of brilliant
Oranges, flushed reds, brownish viridians, and
Rustic golds, tinged and speckled by decellularization,
Tearing, clearly distraught, hanging above tree tops,
Unhinging unreciprocated unreality, allowing drifting
Impossibly in the wind, reading cascades of books floating
Down from heavens, turning pages in the old and
Novel, processing, her mind unfolding,
Yet diminishing kindling, unable to hold.

The Nightwatchman – Will McNicol, Innotet

A Limitation

In renewed extended respite, spiteful sprites
Vibrate shaking sensory probes, glowing and
Blinking as though flashes in symptomatic REM cycles
Would forcibly fluctuate respiratory systems in
Homeostatic imbalances where daily pressing
Proliferated visions in recurrent advances, absolved,
Were hazardously compartmentalized into future
Ergonomic forms of categorical boredom, simplistically
Drawing lines at relatability maximizations in inefficiencies,
Lusters fading from orbic hearts while they’d plead
Sardonically in their rapturous glee and lamentation.

Phenomena – Douran

Space Drums

He left me blindfolded in temporal lobes, in
Blacked out, virally unfolding, white schemes.

“You’re free to do as you please”, were the words
He said to me. “But I’m just unicellular, please!”

Exasperated, I chickened out in reciprocating
Articulated visions of visitations when we’d meet;
Revolving fields of hibiscuses and red spider lilies
Exonerated him in gyrifications, when losing had begat
Sympathetic tendencies, while wanting to tease.

Chapters – Vertigeux


Yearning for Anubis, prudent jackals of violet sheens,
Eagerly, meager, await in underworlds dancing, yapping
Regaling differing presences in unsung worship of their
God’s stoicism, acuity, vicissitude, et cetera in hues.

Actuated prophecies sparking sparkling beliefs of
Truisms, when Anubis had finally arrived and eloquently
Said, “I really, truly, think about all of you fondly.”

Strangers – Giyo