Why I am no pixel
Nor image
To stick through
To overcum
All the parade of desires
Trembling, sucking
Oozing from holes
And thighs and souls
And ONLYFANS
Instead I am only
A semiotic driving cock
A residual organism
That dreams the fusion
With the machine.
Let’s get lost!
In the sewing network
Of supports of links
A loopsided feedback,
The slow muscle grow
Not for blood but
For information.
But alas no,
that drowning
In the free-wire
Abyss
Is capitalistic absorbing,
Is you being subjected
to the subject
Of the desires of others,
Is to be lost but as displaced
Knowing that elsewhere
Is the place
But that the one
The only one that now
You are living
Is a stolen data
Carefully
Inscribed
Between your skin
And the keyboard,
And then you realize:
The soul is the grave
Of the body
The original belonging
Is an orgiastic consume
Of blood wasted
Of money spent.