Ink. Slippery dripping swollen sprayed. Wavering like hot driveway air. World of catastrophe, love, and despair, place we awaken, prison of care. This hell slowly spreading the nameless nightmare.

The sun came upon the horizon white

threatening void between heaven and earth.

This was the empire, rising hopeful,

destined for sky. Doomed to fall. Never to

fade.

The mind will always detect the origin of an idea. In order to remain real, the idea must be father. Or secret dollhouse safe. A real idea, in the right hands, is an intravenous anti-kick and life is but a dream.

The jointed legs scramble like metal spiders

Through streets and lanes, like ocean flows

Over shipwrecks and under large-billed crows,

Reeking methane that burns your nose.

This black asphalt road was paved long ago.

The weight of the jagged

towering broken lattice,

steel and glass torn from sky,

birthed a billowing grey

man made petty and small.

This is an episode about Resident Evil: Apocalypse. As far as movies go, it was fine. For some strange reason, the internet thinks this is the best installment of the franchise. If you are one such person, please drop us a line at xtinctionagenda6@gmail.com. We would like to understand.

It is common now to place the essence of life into that of another . Numerous times, this has been done.

New question: can a soul descend into its own material self and somehow speak?

Time to find out.

Buncha do nothings, deadend bored at the bar, desperate to keep away the night, riding sleek, red single-rider beasts into the maw of the city, slipping between teeth and nearly swallowed by the belly of it all. Sometimes the future comes to us from places that we didn't expect.