“Let us burn Raphael in the name of our tomorrow!”
— Vladimir Timofeevich Kirillov
Doll Mother’s silent trepidation maintains a wholesome healing distance –
one minor demon tried in vain the flesh computer’s whole black body armor.
Unknown nodal patterns attract the short variety via live transmission…
but out of the highest motives… flesh computers combine ideal nucleic acids
& instant heart view with electric night mobile & armed atheists pull a heist:
OPERATION MALE UNIVERSE! Life is variety! – but sex-specific of both distance
& genetic string theory, homeobox trucks had been hiding low for generations,
so turn the table on the demiurg!
And the Mad Poet cried:
“O Doll Mother! Female universe!
Eat me! With or without cross-dressing!”
(Nearby in the hidden brain factory the cabinet makers keep turning out
prodigious Elektronengehirns, entirely made of embryonic stem cells,
as camouflaged surgeons watch cold blood congeal in open vats of steel…)
Garbage – Milk (1995)
Peter Bies © 2012