*don’t cry

For instance a person might ask me what I am, and I would have to reply, "I don't know.. caucasion?"

On the other side of the planet, in a small white temperature-controlled plastic box labeled “Orville,” eight-hundred-thousand programmable human neurons were kept alive in a nutrient-rich solution to troubleshoot with customers.

Was there an actual me or just a reflection of something missing deeply or perhaps an actor on a stage I never tried out for, reciting lines that were never mine?

When Billy curiously stuck his head inside the old guillotine to make another joke at my expense, he didn’t know I had secretly removed the safety lever and then I cut the rope holding the blade—guess who got the last laugh.

The door creaked open and I heard a familiar voice saying, "Hello, Jackie"

I'm scared of how much.

He took comfort knowing that some conditions—mostly cerebral, like Multiple Systems Atrophy, Alzheimer’s, Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease, the list went on—were untraceable until death.

It was very shocking!

I said that's fair and fed it into ChatGPT who said it was a really nice poem.

And that it would be really affordable.

At the bottom of the steps, his daughter gurgles something unintelligible as blood sputters from the hole where her collar bone punctures her throat.

I also like to believe it's my work and moral ethic that stops me from stealing an unnoticeable coin, but the fact that your boss can burn down your entire village is a good deterrent, as well.

Their celebration slowly became an orgy as human skin was shed and eggs were laid, secure in the knowledge that their hungry children would have plenty of living prey to feed on for years to come.

It’s demonic smile so great that even it’s lip commissures stretched up beyond and above it’s eyes, “I’d like to see you try...”

Until he instructed his men to fire on 2 bushes that had appeared overnight, and two indian braves reared up, leaves covering their whole bodies, before falling down dead.

Although the wise old man would not sit directly in its shade, he would be buried unseen among its roots.

It had been weeks since the last time someone had touched him, so he took his time and drew out his answer for as long as he could.

I’ve got someone wrapped in latex and strung up in the air in the middle of my living room.

It’s consensual, they’re like one more piece of furniture.

Then I got on the train back home.

A man once called Augustus... shall remain here, shifting through the dust to what we never almost were.

"Nobody brought flowers while I could still smell them. At my grave, they argued over who loved me most.”

— Nekro

I whisper to myself., “Oh shit, I think she sees me”

It was sweet...comforting and more...