after Rimbaud

Listen, we got every escape hatch blocked. The centre of our orbit is some kind of cynical massacre, some kind of prolapse, thats all of your logic, your entire poetics, no-one can even think revolt -

Compression of east and west, AM and PM, whatever, its all the same. We are here to make the hard choices, your choices. We’ve got the food, all the food, all of your love, every point of circulation, all abstraction, all phosphor. And you can go shit -

Come o silken wraiths, come and devour us -