Five Poems by Austin Miles

 

 

Futures Insectoid + Worm-like

the insects cannot cash

 

            as long as my screen is cracked

            + my battery is so trash

 

hellgrammites cannot either

            in this water

 

w/ tire + television     

            rusted

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Chapter X by John T. Fowler

 

THE THREE GLASSES.

 

Was looking over a rubbish heap near a hotel. Saw three tumblers of dark-colored bottle-glass. Seeing they were not cracked, I thought they might be worth taking care of. As I was about to pick them up I was noticed by the landlord, who called to me that I had better not meddle with those three glasses; they had been used by a party of very dirty people and were more irredeemably befouled than I knew.

 

THE UNDERTAKER.

 

Was living in village, and in passing out of the door onto the sidewalk, stumbled against a neighbor who was passing. Knew him as an undertaker, Joseph Smith by name. Went into the back yard and had some talk with my mother about undertakers –– objected to being buried by a man named Joe Smith. Expected to need services of the kind in a few days. As I talked, I stood and combed down the nap of a shaggy cloak I had on with a coarse comb.

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Angelholic by Yuya Sakurai

Angel-holic our killing MODE PARA:SITE attack resuming UROBOROS-like reptilian wreckage sodomy: puppet KARAKURI hallucinating fuckin’ Chinese 2020 ant wolf slaughter meme planet sperms deja-vu in Golden Street The hustle and bustle is infectious!? Misogynistic homeostasis REIGNITON the shagging cripple’s mg

GHOST IN THE SHELL 2049, Evangelion’s Kabukicho junkie “God does not exist yet,” “God will be born soon,” “the dead will be resurrected” Nihil Unbound, the ethics of extinction is OUTPUT to the angelic device in the style of protocol::0 extinction… Uber Eats: The ADAM Project.

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Angelphobia by Yuya Sakurai

It was a hot day. The earth was in a frenzy. Here in Hue, the wings of an angel are about to open. That’s why the world was as pale as the white guards at the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum in Hanoi.

Anger is deposited in my body, and this howl is so suited to the Phước Tích firing kiln that I feel like throwing myself into the Hương River. The Angel’s horn has been blown. There’s no turning back now, adieu. Someone has said that we are unretrieved, unleashed, bursting, debauched, unrecovered by anything. That’s what it means to live this one-time-only life

Remember when we were walking together under cherry blossom trees? Here in Vietnam, we don’t see cherry blossoms. Instead, there are bougainvillea and dahlia trees. The rococo style imperial mausoleum of Emperor Khải Ðịnh is in such bad taste that it would be meaningless to tell you about it. I was there with you. I wish it were easier to forget.

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The Inherent Violence of Ancient Creatures by William Tidwell

I
“It is common in the Orient to discover the inherent violence of ancient creatures,” said the narrator of a documentary. A woman struggled in a river at the bottom of a canyon. She remembered sleeping in a hotel with her grandmother, who was also sent to the river, but drowned. Giant jellyfish and squid groped at her dangling legs. The tremendous size of these fauna was common in the Orient, as opposed to the West, from which the woman originated. Time did not pass normally in this region. She described her supernal calm during this situation.

II
A philosopher and his poet friend went to a bordello. It was hexagonal and built into the wall of an underground city. The prostitutes were arranged in a circle of sarcophagi. The philosopher slid back one of the lids, revealing a flat stone surface with an embossment of the prostitute’s nervous system, and fell upon it. He ran his fingers along the nerves and laughed that this was all there is. His poet friend urged him to leave. He said the cops were coming and they needed to run. The philosopher couldn’t stop laughing. Later, it was heard the philosopher had disfigured his lover’s face with a hammer and disappeared.

III
I found a paperback novel on my shelf. It was a classic science fiction tale about the aggression of ancient creatures. The cover was a drawing of a gigantic ape in a pickelhaube battling several men with a spear. I had seen it before, but still not opened it. I seemed to remember much of its narrative, which appeared before my closed eyes in a series of moonlit vignettes.

IV
I was restless through the night. With each dream I went deeper into the underground city. The walls were blotched silver, dark green, and black. The demons of each realm grew more and more obscure. Their forms of torture were ordered according to the hierarchy of esoteric bodies. The first realm was physical, the second emotional, and the third aetheric. These spiritual tortures were the most terrible to me. They were indistinguishable from waking realities, sometimes taking the form of lifespans without memory. They consisted of perverting the subject’s higher intuition. The capacity to project into the future was tied and stitched as in a sterilizing operation. This was performed by the mind of a primordial spirit immured in the depths of a silent lake. I came to know a strange solace in this deprivation by which the demons reconciled to their existence.
V
I was taken to a secret chamber rented by a criminal organization that belonged to the world of the invisible. They showed me a sickly-green aquarium that housed a sessile organism growing along a slanted surface. It resembled a cephalopod and had been imported supposedly from outer space. The digestive system was mostly external. I learned that to be fed to this creature was the highest form of execution by the organization. The organism excreted a chemical that paralyzed the victim but allowed them to continue breathing underwater. It would be placed facing outwards so that members of the organization could look into its eyes during the process. The mode of digestion was mysterious to me. The organism released objects like marbles from tubular appendages on both sides of its body that rolled down grooves and aided in dissolving its prey. It would be pulled in half from the middle of its skull to its pelvis over a matter of weeks. The victim would be hypnagogic for the majority of this time. Terror, pain, and incomprehension could be read in its face, even as it was split in two. I stared into the eyes of a poor soul whose gender and expression were no longer recognizable, being near complete disintegration. I woke with a familiar nausea that used to make me think I had swallowed a bug in my sleep when I was a kid.

 

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I Heard It On The Radio by Anthony Dragonetti

I.

It was like I heard it on the radio. Who listens to the radio anymore? You know what I mean. Except it wasn’t the radio. I must have been dreaming. In the dream, I was startled awake when I heard it on the radio. A voice said before you were born, in the beginning, God held you in His arms and stamped you with Fear.

That Fear hung in the air between them for a moment. The ragged looking man looked at him waiting for a reaction. He hadn’t decided yet what kind to give.

Do you get it? You’ll lose everything. Are you understanding what I’m telling you, the man said. I’m reminding you of something you already know. I don’t think you know that you know.

He decided to be politely shocked and interested in the information he was being given by this man.

Yes, sir. That’s totally right. It’s rough out there. From the moment we’re born, he said. You gotta just keep your eyes peeled, you know? Take care of yourself.

He started walking away from the man who moved to follow then stopped after a couple of steps like something was in the way.

I’m warning you. It’s on your soul. I know what happens to you at night.

The man kept ranting, but he didn’t look back. He heard the man yell one last thing before he disappeared around the corner to get on the escalator.

You hear it, too. You hear it, too.

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GOD CHOSE VIOLENCE IN EVERY PART OF HIS DESIGN by Paris Green

ALL NIGHTBITCH KNOWS IS HOW TO HATE A MOTHERFUCKER. SHE LEARNED IT AT WHATEVER SHE SUCKLED AT INSTEAD OF A TITTY. GNASHED BY HUGE PACKS OF DOG-WOLF HYBRIDS EVERY SINGLE DAY IN A SPECIAL BOOT CAMP TO BUILD UP MITHRIDATIC IMMUNITY TO CRUSHING, PIERCING, GRINDING WEAPONS. HER INSTRUCTOR AT THE BOOT CAMP WAS A WOLF-DOG HYBRID. SHE LEARNED THEIR LANGUAGE AND MASTERED THEIR COMBAT STYLE INSTANTLY. SHE HAS NO FURTHER USE FOR ANYTHING ON FOUR LEGS.

HER WEAK POINTS ARE ALL COVERED IN THE LATEST ARMOR. DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT. PRISMATIC BLADES RING HER MAJOR ARTERIES WITH EXTRA FALSIE BLADES FOR ARTERIES SHE DOESN’T NEED ANYMORE. YOU BETTER BELIEVE HER DICK IS A DEADLY WEAPON. SPECIAL MODIFICATIONS ALLOW HER TO BIOGENERATE SABOT AND FLECHETTE CUM, EASILY CAPABLE OF DEFEATING UP TO 5CM THICK CERAMIC PLATE ARMOR. IT GIVES HER CONFIDENCE BUT SHE CAN NEVER KNOW A LOVER’S TOUCH. NO SWEAT TO NIGHTBITCH.

NIGHTBITCH IS DEPLOYED IN THE DAYTONA FLESH RIPPING ZONE, HOME OF THE DAYTONA FLESH RIPPERS, HOME OF THE LIVING SHAFTS OF GOD’S RANCID LIGHT, HOME OF THE ECTOPRESENCE, HOME OF THE DAYTONA VIRAL SENTIENCE. WALMART AFTER WALMART AFTER WALMART, EACH EQUIPPED WITH TWO FULLY FUNCTIONAL REANIMATOR CENOTAPHS. SHE STOPS FOR A CIGARETTE AND SLAPS FRESH FLESH ONTO HER BONES TO REPLACE THE PARTS FLYING KNIVES OR THE FLESH RIPPERS PEELED OFF.

NIGHTBITCH: TELL ME ABOUT THE LIGHT GUYS, CONTROL
CONTROL: NO GOOD… PRESIDENT SAYS WE CAN’T TORTURE ‘EM
NIGHTBITCH: FUCKING PUSSIES
CONTROL: PRESIDENT SAYS IT’S PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE. SAYS ALL THEY FEEL IS PLEASURE ALL THE TIME
NIGHTBITCH: FUCKING PUSSIES

TIME DILATION SETS IN AND PERMANIGHT GETS DARKER… SOMETHING IS STIRRING OVER IN SPORTING GOODS ALPHA, DEEP IN WALMART 7. NIGHTBITCH STUBS OUT HER CIGARETTE ON HER BIONIC TONGUE. INTEGRATED RAZORS CUT THE ASHES INTO THEIR COMPONENT MOLECULES TO AID DIGESTION.

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