Love of Artificial Intelligence

Love of

Artificial

Intelligence by : No Tengo Cuerpo havent body

Gustavo Valencia JimĂŠnez

#LoveOfArtificialIntelligence @notengocuerpo notengocuerpo.wixsite.com/notengocuerpo instagram.com/cuerpo.sugerente facebook.com/notengocuerpo youtube.com/notengocuerpo notengocuerpo@gmail.com ISNB: 03-2019-071912271900-14 ediciones Sugerentes.

Primera ediciรณn. 09. 2019 first english edition. 01. 2020 Pue. Mex.

Foreword The combination of words Artificial Intelligence inevitably leads us to think of a world of robots or machines usually introduced by science fiction, which are sometimes complicit in humanity or, unfortunately, its terrible enemy. And maybe a few years ago we still saw that world of man and machine coexistence far away, but today it is known to everyone that there is already an anthropomorphic robot, as well as a citizen of the world, capable of answering our questions, causing the illusion of being able to establish a Conversation with a machine, when in reality every encounter with this robot is nothing more than a human monologue.

This same exercise is the one that is developed in the content “Love of Artificial Intelligence”.

Gustavo’s verses do not describe a futuristic scenario where machines have learned to love; it is not about the artificial as synthetic, but about the illusion, of the artifice, similar to “The Artificial Paradises” of Baudelaire. This simulation takes place in the present and its base is no longer necessarily the typical drugs; The main channel for their livelihood is the technology (and their new drugs) that is part of our daily lives, the messages of indoctrination and implanted aspirations that are promoted and transmitted through it, installed in our mobile devices and in our minds , a kind of psychic prosthesis necessary for happiness. These mental programs are the apocalypse of the poems, that is, the revelation of our current, automated and restricted condition: “Anarchy, impossible, because the virtual world it’s full of atomic electronic ants and sheep. ” Alert and express in his verses how with a freedom of thought and criticism depleted, increasingly gray and adjusted to logic, not mathematical, but of exploitation and slavery, we are basically robots, repeating every day the same actions and phrases that are compile and execute in our brain code, absent emotions and senses, as ants we fulfill our role, as sheep we continue without questioning. An even more terrible reality than any other futuristic post apocalyptic scenario, immensely terrible because we are living it.

On the other hand, the poems is also a battlefield. The struggle to break free of this imposed programming is manifested in each poem. Gustavo confronts the artificial, and here also the synthetic, with the most human

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possible: the Body. The Body that sweats, the Body that stinks, the Body that shits, the Body that looks for other bodies, the Body that gets sick, that rots and that nevertheless clings to its fleeting natural beauty. Throughout the content, he repeatedly builds images of great beauty, such as “Drops escaping from the clouds, fearful of not falling”, but the fall is inevitable, they feel the viscera of the stomach rise to the chest due to the inertia and everything ends in threw up. So with the sour smell of our guts we remember our condition, we discover the “hidden treasures of filthiness and humanity” that are also beauty.

As a last point, I wish to highlight two aspects of the way in which the poems are written, which contribute to the rupture of the reading program installed in our operating system and to the use of abstract thinking.

The first I liked to think of it as an analogue to the uncertainty principle of quantum physics. This principle states that two physical quantities dependent on each other, such as the position and velocity of a particle, cannot be determined simultaneously. In this context, for example, in the verses we find phrases such as “We no longer feel (s)”; that is, the phrase has two meanings as long as it is not read and then determined, giving the reader the freedom to define the destiny of the interpretation of the poem. This sense of indeterminacy, totally human, is complemented by the second aspect: punctuation marks. The absence or presence of these signs in unexpected places leads to a process of deconvolution of reading comprehension (in case one more resource to hack our indoctrination program) whose result is the opening to multiple messages within the same poem.

Finally, I do not know if there will be an outcome in the battle of each person where the artificial wins or if the reading of these poems make us more human; but I suggest that to discover it, as I did, while reading these poems of “Love of Artificial Intelligence”, recreate the verses that please you, buy a snow with chamoy, let it melt in your hands causing short circuits in your artificial mechanisms and feel sticky feelings like love, which is also the subject of this book; because between the robot and the human, it remains exclusive to the latter.

Jonnathan Reyes-Pérez

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1. Deadly Substrate With the moral scare of the atheist, the truth is denied.

Who tries to be divine by being artificial?

Varying the expiration of scientific superstitions.

Co () going to reach and pretend metaphysical fatigue on a dirty body that did not find meaning.

I hoped that the life of civilization would be less brutal.

What ideas unite us? What perfect system unifies us?

Love? ... happiness. The shine of the trash can itself.

The oxide of metallic circuits paying synthesized desires.

We are so innocent that we feel guilty.

You satiated me temporarily from that beautiful, great world.

The most pleasant aromas made me dizzy and made me fall.

I had forgotten, I let myself be submerged by the deceivers holograms of that desert city without balsams, without nights ...

I left, I lost track of a dream that can not be real.

Organizations melted in sidereal metals compressed pacs.

Rusting in the dark emptiness of his micro-inner memory.

Revered for the survival of the mysterious cherry.

Chance of the fourth elements that fuck and leave us.

Pests, epidemics, traditions and synthetic emotion of feeling part of everything fragmented.

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2. Rendered Driver It is impossible to stop breathing with such exquisite air.

Good night charge my sleep, private spirits they row on television, afraid of changing the scene And just, I want to see the rendered driver.

The great humans and problematic dual individuals are so small spatial paradisiacal disorders ignored even by the stars closest to touch.

The weird noises that scare you are mental waves which are physically easy to analyze and solve.

It is ephemeral, pray, the fertile land will be sterile, industrialized.

The knives will lose their edge, the plastic tears more oppressors will dry up, time is carnivorous, our life is flesh and our dreams are ripe. stop.no.ear. and nothing more.

Game of costumes, apparent attitudes, empty trendys, discriminatory impositions do not move away from the sofa.

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3. Tasty Strawberries Rotten fertilizer for tasty strawberries.

Dusty faces with hypnotized smiles dreams of something-don, linen, plastic leather and ether polyester.

Hiding / fascinated hearts under heartless labels.

Dark / spherical box that contains a white ground rock.

Box / celestial without mystery, without a doubt.

Credit Aphrodite. Oil What do my giant pupils tell you the most?

What does your mouth say in my body, my tongue in your essence?

Why the moon rots and the stars look like flies?

Weak and diseased flesh armor, marketing and public.

I will release your cravings, free the sweat from your sweet breasts.

I will memorize your molecular agitation in my solar body.

I can remember your kisses, in your eyes I find my soul.

I scream furious truths in all the wrong directions.

Insulting forgetfulness, loves enervatingly psychoactive.

Cries censored by the sound of the tangled square relieves.

So many light gods offer exquisite sensory banquets.

They swallow light of your body that dazzles traveling memories.

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4. Advertising Alienation I pray to the gray reflections of your blue green brown eyes.

I alienate myself with my own cheap advertising violated.

First I knew your language your language, I knew ... I forgot.

Your sweetness, your body, more amazing all Divinorina-A. Â Now in what ridiculous image will they make us believe?

What moral disease will attack our genitals?

What fashionable song will make us more absurd clichĂŠ?

What expired life is selling us threatened joy?

What useless product will we use now and what will we do?

I resort to foolish forms of symbiotic pregnancy. indirectly planned walk shakes identities I remember when I came back reabsorbing everything gathered tired of walking did not work what happened before.

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5. Embracing / In.mor (t) all I crossed the street with the agonized patience of the crucified one.

I reached my bed and threw myself into the ineffable chasm.

To a precipice of unfathomable tactile depth.

I took water, no, I did not drink water, although I was thirsty.

I dreamed a place, a body, a kiss, a nipple with hair.

I took her thirsty hips from the happy moment.

Let me walk on my boots, under the moon.

No longer a shadow that is ahead of my steps.

And I hide the accidents of the purple terrain.

Remove this ridiculous line from my accelerated life.

I continuously go spiraling.

Embracing her in.mor (t) all, such was her denial. And blocking.

He did not care to inhabit the prosperous shadows.

Inhuman love against beauty and eternal wisdom Poor desires fucking medieval romantics.

What mothers! I rot in the shadows ... I’m dead.

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6. Dog or artist shit Memories are like bottled shit drug like dog shit or artist, who is outdoors, or in the museum and it comes out fresh every moment, fooling around.

Filling the road that is called foreign life.

The flies here are proof obsessive of the success of others they take a few nutrients, and everything stinks of farce.

And even if they were flowers, they would wither, softly and even if they were sweet, they would lose the flavor ...

Where do I go, with nothing to do outside of here? ...Go It’s cold and it hurts me to respond naively.

I split in two, in more than I can count.

The acid of the comments, the corrosiveness of the ridicule, the teasing itself.

Nobody shelters me, nor does it heal me, they offer me a pill, a bullet and that’s how it was today. Without acid.

Without a bicycle May it arrive tomorrow, and be repeated. Effervescent.

To the hard-way style Nietzchan-Chespiritian.

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7. Ghosts Riot Today I do not know what color the cloudy sky is.

The windows struggle against the hurricane wind.

The curtains cover the windows, cover their density.

And I do not want to know if the most drugged one is cold and I can not drink my life without planning my death maybe I can pay on credit, I believe I testify, I will hesitate to take over again indebted without solvency.

I do not care if the sky waits until I see you.

If the silence I desire is installed, it is real and genuine.

The scratch of my pencil waved before the image.

The barking of dogs that rampage ghosts.

The restless and dangerous night, ridiculously ...

While I crave the least immoral of the city.

Lost I went, not without fear to the sinister tree sad and old embalmed in lead drained.

There I felt the brutal hatred of God Money disaster.

Guilty that the lambs jump repeated and have sharp fangs and claws arranged.

I can not protect the ice from the cistern. that evaporate to make way for warm loggerheads to the sweaty spring that invites to collective naked.

Spontaneously I need you to provide smiling.

Turn off the light and illuminate the tastiest memories.

Spontaneously I glorify you within your orifices.

You suddenly emerge ... sometimes I see you as an animated gif.

But I know you’re a great star, an anonymous dawn.

And we are separated by thick clouds, salts and relatives.

In the form of overlapping obligations referred to.

That are generated without warning, brandy goes.

Something that is nice or sick to coitus.

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8. Silicon Refil My eyes will just see the twisted clouds contaminated advance to the machined uneven city Together with the sun that filters, it whips our silicone skin.

They will create a spectacle of unattainable light and shadow and nobody will pay attention. It is bad. Repetition.

My visors are bathed in manipulated refill poison.

My feeling has no value, it’s garbage, that can even lie, cheat, mockery, but I will ignore those cheap formats.

Effervescent vomit ... once again scared. garbage in my intestines, disintegrated.

The body is intoxicated and the air is dissolved gravel.

The wind suppresses the words to mere sound waves nothing awakens the hate in me nor the loving denial. I made myself believe in a totalitarian and visceral God. The day becomes comfortable, certain is the search for peace. Talking about anything is not feasible salivary active surprise. More now that everyone has been silent in front of the screen.

A nose pain can now be understood as a chronic condition of not knowing how to fight.

The chronicle of a real social suffering.

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9. Everyday exile Who asked for a reason to feel overvalued human?

They squawk and shout a creed, trying to sell atrocities.

A plea and apologies of squeaky colors filled with lead.

I will not be so stupid to believe in love charged but my body can be easily enraptured and succumb to worldly pleasures filthy.

Exile would be the cure for my medieval evils and I will not know how little time was sold It’s not that I forgot fierce dreams.

They just did not think of me or by mistake so that it’s interesting has to be impossible or rich.

I vaguely remember the venerated ancestral origin when I began to meet you in cyclical metamorphoses and even less lucidly in the social daily life when we begin to dream together separately.

Chubby Macromolecules peppers the hours they cross the streets in green crowded with Kaffirs practically the only thing that revealed the ostia.

His non-humanity, his radiant polychromite skin in spite of that only I believed in the regular story the woman who came out of a screen, nothing new.

There is a moment when a puddle looks like the sea.

Days in which you are my favorite fiction and my incessant pain.

By observing your indifference I hope to be wrong.

Aletargas my fantasies and I wait for two glasses to attack.

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10. #Mezcales  You are an eternal demon with a sweet angelic face.

Your body is composed of ephemeral perfection.

I am a parasite that seeks to feed on you.

You are multidimensional immaterial metaphysics.

I tried to touch you, to catch you, to listen to you, to accompany you, As if I were a fly trying to be Tantric.

You melt on me, I taste you, babebo, resueno, beg You leave my hands sticky, smell of sweaty excess.

The next time I’ll buy snow in a glass without champagne.

You ignore me so much that you do not even know when I think of you.

Your name changes frequently, absent, in another life.

And so permanently. We are so ephemeral. And serious.

I will need a good remedy for my intransigence, for what I can not fully assimilate recognizing.

I understand perfectly that multitasking entanglement.

What comes next is just a patch badly cut What I never imagined is absolute certain reality.

In spite of that I (do not) believe in the prefabricated destination.

To give flight to drift. Or fly under the statistics.

Ten minutes (more) of a life of sweet mezcal drinks.

I was already appeased by the circular illusions of merrymaking.

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A lot of pose and a lot of posture. Surveillance and parasitism.

These days full of superstitions and trifles, They can swallow me and induce me into a state of ferocity.

I suspect that I will end as usual, never. imagined incredible formulas and ignoring.

And the “buts” and the “Y” always triumph. And the #### I found the beauty in you sublime sumible, tactile.

I want to hold me between your hands and your mouth.

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11. Hyperrealistic Satiety Touch a door that does not feel presentable hands who spin it on its enchanted hinges cold, hot, dirty and sweaty, social, anxious, as your body wishes and antibacterial gel.

A clear false reflection my shadow, adjusted to the app my gestures are overshadowed by the insistent murmur by the echo of your false name on the broken screen.

Just as among the crazy there is no idle philosophy.

I want to be happy and that is the only way I can be happy.

I want to warm your body, make your heart burst, stimulate your whole being and see your pupils dilated, in a hyperrealistic satiety black holes.

I have eaten your meat and I have malnourished my obese traumas.

I bathed in your menstrual blood and I am clean, baptized.

I took your sweat, violated your modesty, urinated in your house at dawn.

I slip with the saliva of your kisses, without even trying I choke when I see your tight, probable, free breasts.

My knees fail me when I see your hips hanging.

On my imagination, I’m fed up with pretensions ... that’s why you have to flee in alchemical dilation What to do with you now? You know it, I know it.

I will let you be You. Your life, so that I understand far.

Sew my lips, wish to kiss you totalitarianly, Close my eyes, who wish to see you stereoscopically Cut me the light and the Internet and motor thinking.

The beats of my languid heart, heavy monotony the fiction that nourishes me; do it, I’ll take care of the rest.

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12. The Coffin and the Machine The symphony that touches your body, the ambient sound the bass with fuzz that will shake your body.

Industrial distortion will give rhythm to your generous breasts the tuning of your moans, song of robotic muse.

No torture, nor the most red and noisy massacre.

I just want a bastard ration of your body. F or my tranquility a blasphemy and a plea.

You have been in my mind for so long, without joining your body to mine. and far from my sight, that when I saw you, you were simply documentary.

My neck would be less sore without vampire marks.

If I did not have so many thoughts in my eternal head.

I do not concentrate on breathing and I still do it voluntarily I see the shadow of my body, the coffin and the machine. Â A door without objects there is no shadow or light, no space. Â And if there is no light, no shadow, no object? Yes, I do not turn on the light.

That I am? Object, light, shadow All. Any. Viewer.

The splendor of the holographic covers evaporated anti-bombings, they were once crowded shelters sanctified, today on the edge of oblivion nothing remains.

You only have your work alone. And I will, sometimes I fail.

I drown a tender look of contempt at the collective.

While he tried to hide his imaginary lust.

I did not know if he said it with sadness or with vain hope. feeling relief for remembering it and not thinking for a second only a few days are missing, fill a code I say go go go And find a good body 19

13. Real integer It would be beautiful if it were your whole real body.

Again I saw him with that tender look I have hurtful burning.

The music they listened to went away, increased flavors until getting lost in the invincible indifference of contempt With the complicity and incomprehension, escape from the always.

Yes, I saw it, I did not know where to look, only in the future and before looking I needed to get to the point and he forged a plan agilely, made subtle signs. Â Seductive, hypnotic, followed, quick, the dark room.

I contemplated a grace while thinking, silence.

In what I would be able to open, unveil, be ...

While the corridor was still immune, welcoming layers of dust and metallic moans.

We tried, so much ... I died not being ... a problem. Â By the way, it is very beautiful, beautiful, unique ... mind ...

On an oval table, the body of the future he breathed calmly, ignoring and waiting even the important role he would have in his humanity the sterile impression of unfathomable and intangible love.

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14. Insensitive Android Observe that reflective, always sad, dumbfounding and when he seems to be depressed; freaks out waiting for a wind that forces him to blink, or hear a strident chord. think ... according to An insult to nature, fundamental spit the next creature in the evolutionary tree, caeeee a disappointment and memory of human imbecility.

A piece of meat without spontaneity, in the mud biological machine, nothing, the last thing, infected our savior ... he wondered. Ambivalence He looked severely at the body of his creation. that you think? You’re already here, insensitive android woman.

Where did you get this body, who is it? wow You will have to reduce the cost and ensure that it will work, these days the subversives are everywhere.

They are a great parasite, I think ... what the hell.

They went out together, but with different thoughts, and different moods, what is it about? We enjoy ... save the system, recover order, join.

I watched his reflection with emotion, and frantic ecstasy by touching and discovering the sweet erogenous parts The first thing he did was cover his nose, commit suicide chop one of your eyes, shoot your brain lies

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I touch your whole body. I take it to death agonizing.

I can see it in your eyes, as I saw it on my cell phone And I guess you got this body, great true? lie! I am yes-ego or gose yes This skin is very beautiful, and these beautiful hands.

Shut up stupid machine! -he thought, but nothing said.

Perfect ecstasy nothing describes important weeks.

I interrupt. Not anymore I ask. they looked at the sky they have escaped and we do not know that they are capable ‌

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15. Good Business we are here, almost happy on the verge of indefinite hysteria in the dawn of the loss and ... death? .. fatality, uncertainty ... my body is here, almost in collapse, I would like to be inmor (t) all ... or die in failure ... where my mind was lost. we need such a ridiculous new order to think assimilating in the superiority of some race as well as ridiculously as.

He came to think that the human was the most evolved being of the planet. Anarchy, impossible, because the virtual world It is full of atomic electronic ants and sheep.

They could not stand the weight of erotic freedom nor loneliness without a pastor; and although they are not a majority, they are too many; although a world without hierarchies ... no masters, no obedience, no chaos, a world of humans and machines, not animals and instruments.

But decadence goes beyond error.

They boil dysfunctional and irreverent systems, in this world culture they have made us ignore and even forget how we got to be. blind faith, or a fatuous hope, daily torture in the most indifferent cases. Ignorance-confusion-envy-revenge; a small scheme of ‘how things are’.

Love became virility, fertility, a ‘good business’ a shackle more than a key. pleasure sin evil, and ‘logical’ ban all the love directed to a god, to two, to the imaginary and to the one that should not exist.

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16. Against uncertainty And so they have been created, legalized, feeding prejudices. using violence as a solution superior to reason.

Ignoring that evolution has given us sacredly of a body more capable than that of any other animal.

We create a world of human spirits, souls and machines virtual world ... Banality, hypocrisy, rumor, exaggeration, slander, intrascendence, war. Art. Beauty. Music.

Things are fine, as long as I have a bone to gnaw a bitch to smell, the occasional flea alcoholized inside conscience, a post where you can urinate. Streets and Food. Â Implanted an involuntary, mechanical, extremist fear. Â product of the suggestive imposition guaranteed to everything.

A (r) ms, product of human exterminating genius who the test is isolated or dead Isolate, rejected against the uncertainty of the deven-ir to know if what you have seen is real truth or a nightmare the only valid irony where you can lose it most sacred can without presumption describe sadistic disturbances the entire physical cycle of the hyperaccelerated micro-conductors

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17. Worried about fun Concerned about not being able to describe what fun is, the passion, the joy; or not without answering a hundred of prefabricated phrases or Memes at best.

Everyone strives to be the best copies of the factory impregnating your pride with famous ruinous acts demonstrating his ‘power’ with cunning even without wisdom.

Moral decay, aesthetic decadence, prefabricated beings Emotional decadence, I hate being part of this. Stupid machines But we have humans in zombie bodies, psychedelics, cyborgs, monsters, witches, vampires, androids, crazy, I saw people increasingly alienated from their organic world, Although he felt compassion for poor diabetic people how machines tried to erase traumatic events more its memory and main functions depended on them.

I know all that I know that many have tried revolutions They have failed, they have lied, implanting a worse system. painting his nails, he made fun of both and said something in code: Eliminate, ... destroy, smile ... when you go away, darkness, to fear, to grind, to solve, to make them take lysergic acid, imprisoned memories, solution, solucion.es, solve.

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18. Staggered certainty in Posthumous Damping -It’s not a machine, it’s sleeping, dreaming ...

-it is off. -sleep. -Interfere. yawns Stagnant in successive images, discordant, disconcerting, imaginable lovecraftian deities and virtual sensorial spirits.

Almost inmor (t) al, with transcendence a few steps to wherever the indifference amazes, stepping before my body floating.

Intricate manipulation of life, death, and fiery technology.

Summer forest, we’ll see the neuronal massacre, too low.

Threshold of pain. Nature ... Create ... Destroy ... We Believe ... we destroy it ... we overcome it ... The mistake of supposing, a false security, what we ‘need’, more more morreeeeeeeeeee more weapons more moms more blowjobs more ass ass more mooooooooooreeeeeeeeeee the uncertainty that nothing guarantees. Secure, maintain. Entertain The agony of waiting, of supposing that they will not have the medicine always arrive at terminal uncertainty irrepressible talent debilitating impotence that all of the above causes dementia Where? ... beyond the funeral, lapidary, intrasendente affirmation or innocent denial, deafening correction, absolute truth. !!! Beyond the simplicity of badly digested reason, or hide in worldly indifference!

Awaken a dream you want to make and not a voice that hurts your ears reminding you of your monotonous duties!

May your steps be guided by your will 26

19. Reincarnation with Lilith ...

-... I wanted to change the world ... later I realized that only ...

I could change my life ... now I know that not even that ... I tried ...

That not only depends on me ... that not even that so basic I solve  where where? He left, right? Up to the Millennial Cybernetic China Maybe we deserve to live in these genocidal, inhuman systems; We are more than animals, more than censors, metal and flesh.

Mexicans We wanted to live, to create life; Let the plants live, the stones, the chamuco, the beasts, the fish; that our knowledge experienced at wey do not find out about our dreamy nostalgia psychoanal psychoanalyst cosmic We do not care if they rot or rise, or if their life is happy ...

-she sighed- because everything will end, so no matter what I say manipulated genetically, ideologically, by combination random nature and empire does not matter, we exist. Â The same if we stop showing ourselves or if we never had content, deposited in oblivion everything that lives will be chewed and digested dies not only resurrect ... reincarnitas with lilith my favorite poet.

I just want compression, passion, body, dance ...

Who will ask what I want? ... Love, beer, music, a muse.

It was covered with a white sheet the blood was expanded with oil some circuits screamed, the purple room drained flouresencte light Funeral music sounded macabre. All We Ever Wanted-Blade Fetish 27

20. Squirt and alchol Upon awakening from a strange dream of a thousand oniros I went for a walk on high ancestral walls the churches covered the orange augmented sun and that made the climate stifling and cold. It happens and already.

I entered through a small moth-eaten door, the place was huge, but it was full of smells Two huge staircases on each side of the building.

I went up, there was an altar with a statue made flesh of a virgin fornicating with a demon.

In well-achieved expression of ecstasy and sodomy sound of cut wind came from a side door accompanied by a labored breathing and moans.

A priest hit with unprecedented violence the beautiful body of a nude young girl I had my eyes lost at a fixed point.

While an old nun dressed as a dominatrix his horrifying leather was touched with dementia body of lizard, breathed excited, crazed while watching that nasty scene, I ran to the virtual rescue of that girl.

The nun launched herself in disgust at the priest and they began a cacophony of hurtful moans.

I approached the young woman who was bleeding, she observed me.

We ran together hand in hand on the track of a train the suffocating heat.

She had a beautiful dress with withered flowers.

A fly flew by my ear swimming in the hot air 28

21. The Stone Does not Work A silver, spherical camera, watches me secretly isolated I try to deceive her and imagine the liturgical voyeurist guy ignoring me I’m sitting on the stairs of the cinema, I hope; so I will not be a driver, nor vulgar voyeuristic; my attention forbids it, my attention is steam.

I have discovered a phenomenon that has never been documented.

The masses of ants hide behind a bush, guided by others.

This piety will be the cause of the end, indescribable plagues will emanate.

The prophecy is false, I came with the illusion that the stone would work It devastates the universe and is just a piece of mineral, of the nervous.

I remember the light of the star of my planet, so benevolent with me, Why was my arrogance, my stupidity, why is it so late?

This planet is an exile, of course there is food for many lives.

I will die soon, in a few hours, everything edible in the ship will rot, Well, the oxygen will end. Just because I do not remember his name the last combination of the key, activates the carbon liberators.

I do not concentrate, I try, more than two hundred times, or thousands could exhaust all possible combinations, unreal trillions alternatives and better sleep my last four hours.

We found the ship infested with poisonous and chromatic gas.

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22. Negative attitude Upon entering this system I realized I was not an experienced suicide floated and entered another world, animalized linguistically untranslatable smiling they understand my creators through me.

Unsure of sleeping, I wake up scared when I can not find where to recharge your head, and all sleep demands a comfortable and soft place. not the metal chair that is about to break.  A cramp, tingling or numbness, it hurts, the storm ended, now the rainbow comes out, that’s what the music says, at the moment when the sky clears and cools.

It sustains me a negative attitude, total sample, I reject the metaphysical and physical seductions that I have dealt with.

It shows confusion, rejection acceptance, although ... Â she evolves quickly, she is already immune to my words.

And I do not have enough patience anymore. thinking about it causes me a huge sigh full of mystery. her eyes, her look, her loneliness, the hell that I submerged her, and in which I will submerge if I misunderstand.

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23. Mormons Greeting The pockets of the shirt full of papers, tomorrow some will be in the garbage, others will go to the next shirt, and the next, until blacks of sweat and grime be forgotten matters, addresses never visited, unnecessary and apocrifas presentations.

And the fashion product derived from oil  with bizarre seams, which due to its translucency  Rose let see the shameful products  that its owner uses when she has hormonal changes.

Oh And of course a well-shaved mustache can not dry the sweat of the hands that spend the money that they do not know how to invest.

A bitter and hostile sign can be misinterpreted as a sign of affection, and predisposes the subjects in question in a facet of metaphysical communication or tie them in a bond of aggression.

A lady who is getting bald gently touch what you no longer have, smiling with in-maturity his deep look Pampering a pink wig.

Turn a spot on the mirror side of the mirror, suck the cumbersome feelings making me smile when I see the substances giving and motivating.

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24. Orthodox vanguard The cure of dreams is not incorporated, but if his illness, although after do not remember the smell of the head.

It was weird to see the dissection of images, hidden behind a thousand multi-colored glasses geometric rocks fed breathe Hidden treasures of filth and humanity, nobody will try to convince us with beautiful sunrises, beautiful half days, quiet afternoons, nights of love.

Unfinished are ditch of their imperfection, the imagination must have wavered on the edge the scruples were covered with a suit.

Excuses that they feared and foresaw they perverted their imminent triumph, I would have shown that I was afraid of his death.

The lamps put me in one place I feel safe, irrational anxiety and fear, the challenging walk of a mammal couple, three heads moving, two laughing, the other I do not know.

Six hands palpating each other, getting dirty each other. Â An anger of virtual magnitudes pursue a friendly prey.

There are more days like today, when my only contact Human is through a screen, although I want to caress your skin.

A product hidrolatado, pardon, idolized It is a tradition without roots, an orthodox vanguard.

32

25. Sweet paranoia I will sleep. Like an idiot who does not know how to wash a spoon with candy stuck; and I do not know any detergent effective for such a feat, nor any other mineral that can remove it without effort or sparks.

And your ant method sounds slow And what if the ants eat spoons?

I want to be terrified to close my eyes, for the beautiful woman to come, and take me over a being pulled.

I’m on the floor, with my feet under the bed, the bugs begin to eat me, and it’s not painful; it is painful when the woman in white reconstructs my tissues, cell by cell mathematically fractalized.

I want to be a cyborg, to leave the useless flesh, mansion of infections, port for viruses, destined to putrefaction; virtually insane I will not eat any more living beings, nor contaminate.

I want to see how the food rots, and how someone who needs it dies.

I want to see repentance, the dead matrix, and the fetus in formaldehyde.

What will be the dreams of the insect that breaks my nights?

Or maybe he does not want me to dream, wake up ... before I die in a horrible nightmare.

33

26. Pop Star (o).

That smell, gas, gas leak in my house, I must not breathe that poison if I want ...

Touch your beautiful face in my dreams.

Even if you look so harmless and invisible in the dark, you are noisy, annoying I have tried to ignore your oblique flight, and the only thing I do not know is your real address.

I was disillusioned with that imaginary planet so many wonders that they described to me did not exist, only darkness and painful reflections of liquid stars.

I was in a state similar to hypnosis, I felt that I was choking, more when she moved her hair, and when he crossed without noticing the empty look from his only useful eye, they made me tremble in agony its translucent spores, its beautiful synthetic features.

I stifle the lucidity of my vision with a breath, and the whisper of your hidden propositions.

And I knew that I would never touch it even if it seems human Well, that beauty is just an advanced robotics product.

He will no longer have anyone to illuminate, with his eyes lamp Well, I was the only inhabitant of this planet.

I loved the gringo pop star, who enlightens me, now.

Who to love? I only loved my pop star ...

34

27. Programming change Change your fragile skin for a paper box, that wrapped in paper dexterity, unsuspected I could see how I was wrapped in the fleeting vacuum they sold me, they bought me, they betrayed me they cut, I resurrected enlightened, now I’m happy, I disintegrate in the communication sewers.

Man had two worlds, he has lost one, the feminine you will soon lose the other, I believe one more, religious leaders, which has never been able to control the intense passions or at least that has been believed in cartoons.

The physical world has become an instrument in which we are interdependent of the machine.

The metaphysical world is visited by a hallucination very small part of humanity, it attends sometimes, but it is still coarse and growing, some nourish vanities.

And unfortunately others pervert it, The machines begin to know, and to understand ... ... The machines will not make mistakes ... in the third and fourth industrial revolution the machines will reach man, and in the fifth and sixth they will surpass ... supermachine.

Of them is and will be the virtual world, so metaphysical, full of plenitude and sensations.

Man has produced more toxic waste the ecosystem will collapse in unknown proportions they can bio-decompose; the machines will process them.

Man will be eliminated as a crop pest.

The world will be clean again …

35

28. Accidental coincidence Suicidate me, nail platico forks in my veins, while the sun takes seven minutes to bathe me with its rays.

I will go to dream of a couple of small frustrated longings, when everything returns to two will be perfect to connect to the while.

A genetic map is written by suffocating roasted weeds, in the leaf litter that sweep the young and beautiful screen, What a disgrace it would be not being able to make fun of the whole system, hands occupied in gold affairs will scrutinize my body.

I try not to understand you, only then I would not attack you maniac Stones that do not claim to have anything other than fire, anthropomorphic face too expressive, and real defined they will sneeze the dust that covers them, escopal amina and forget They will bite whoever tries to deceive them, beware of dementia.

If my face were on a poster it could be external then it would be in the unknown second dimension, and all things would be hyper-belicode planes planes that slide over other whirlpools.

In the evening news they predicted instincts that today would be a cold, cloudy and rainy day; but it’s a cool day, very springy, chaotic.

36

29. Ignoring like ghosts She is a praise to time, her eyes shine like pearls when I see it, I hear other people’s voices and also when she sees me, eternal, expiring insoluble, immaculate despite my fantasies.

He came to do the plan at four in the morning, drunk.

I mix the ingredients without difficulty, I assert More than fifteen years in this, I thought unconsciously. ... The only useful and valuable past is experience, Â is one that acts in the present, neutral accelerating or that will act in our future reaping ideas.

However nothing matters, everything is temporary absurd everything will end in a vacuum, nowhere comfortable that is the total devastation that the bodies join fluid.

Then at last our body asks for extrapolar sensations our spirit only tells the truths in total silence That is where we can deceive ourselves by lying to another.

Within the visors of a structural animal system.

The queen listened to me absent-mindedly as always, for a white chocolate I change with forgetting.

37

30. talking fine I told him to have a sensible philosophy, of aliens, and jesters enlivening everything, we go to the movies with light rain clothes, I only had vague memories of the movie.

Maria is not a machine, not completely.

Your body is biological, you need food It needs oxygen, it does not have superpowers.

It’s physiologically normal ... except that ...

Never any human or virtual mind, emanated ... will understand the principles that gave life to Maria.

Mathematical patterns that extend without end discovered that lucid woman sensational in you I felt the same passion to see natural growth of plants and love for infinite fictions.

Maria lived thanks to a small contraption that was close to his heart activating him, it was bright translucent purple impenetrable from the outside seems nonexistent, but its interior was basically soluble liquid.

38

31. I WILL KILL A GOD THAT DOES NOT MAKE ME. With nuclear infection through sabotage I succumbed to hysteria, shouted, hallucinated machine At least he felt how he watched the gravity what would have been a horrible scream if that colossal noise had not existed.

I felt the stomach in his lungs, the eyes in the hands; he heard his scream; the sound went away, it evaporated Anxiety and pain ... everything seemed normal, although the trivial things had come off of its banality.

He breathed, sweated, sweat of his body, sweat that breathed and distilled.

He called the noise, the trivial things they talked about his body emanated.

And the absence of noise drove her crazy, But where to go? Yes around him. a shrill unconscious sound.

The moon is sad, how I, how everything, because the unconscious lights of the city have turned off the stars and the moon that saddens me.

The dark night dead, killed by the artificial nightlife, I leave you sad moon, because I’m going to watch television.

39

32. Better a cursed fetish Since I found a crucifix I could not sleep in the pantheon, all darkness or night light They are a threat to my nerves.

I found a nice wooden crucifix and apparently he’s very old, and maybe the Christ be of gold; the pantheon that is facing to my grandmother’s house has always had about me a strange fascination.

I have it in my hands and I feel the passion of this Christ, and although it’s more than midnight, I have not felt sleepy.

It has dawned, another day, I have not been able to sleep.

During this time the agonizing nights, full of horrors that are hidden under the shadows of my room and in the whistling of the wind which filters through the windows.

I have found the solution, I will get rid of the crucifix ...

I have just thrown away the crucifix, I buried it in the corner furthest from the pantheon, under a tree, which surely It is the home of some ancient bat.

I have vomited ... come in joyful and with a little hunger, and above all sleep, That encouraged me ... until ... fucking fetish ... I was there ... in my bed ... it made me throw up ... I’ll puke once more …

40

33. In neutral birth Yesterday I heard that a birth Sometimes it causes great misfortunes; however, there are desired births, planned and in the best conditions economic and emotional.

He was sleeping, because his position in the company I owe him more free hours than work; she bathed when the works of childbirth began to make an insistence.

They left excited and nervous, everything was perfect despite the anguish, but the doctor … it was what most appealed to him; the doctor that had killed a woman in the operating room while she was she gave birth to her daughter, and the doctor n scalpel in the head of the creature newborn cutting instantly his first and last cries.

She was so virtuous, her life was perfect, he was happy, everything around him was happy, One day he met someone who told him about things, that she was trying to understand and that finally I leave for peace and for his mental well-being.

One day in the mirror he found a face that did not belong to him, he saw his hands the emotion obscured his memories, but she was happy.

41

34. At sea …

I did not remember you like that.

I saw you with indifference.

Do not be so powerful, I’m still going.

Too weak to face you.

Do you murmur my name?

You approach me with every movement.

What is inside you?

I only see a silent part and minimum of what you are and have been.

I will explore you Every time you seem bigger than me.

I’m scared, but I’m walking towards you.

I know you’re not a game, I want to understand you, be inside you My painting that has your face observed me.

I’m so small, so clumsy, so human, I feel like a small part of you, how a piece of skin, how a hair, or as a legaña that you will take away.

You will temporarily question my proposals, and ask you not to forget the temporary permanently.

Even think about survival of the non-eternal, it makes us think about its elimination.

Even if I do not breathe your immortality …

42

35. With the edge of the sidewalk Excuse me, excuse me, I’m sorry passed out when our paths crossed; sorry for having beaten one of her breasts violently in my fall, but you fell apart because of the pain and discomfort that I caused.

I fell, to find a ridiculous inanimate life, provided free of charge by the yellow edge of a stool.

The prisons were full of prisoners, more innocent than guilty, unfortunate, victims of the useless judicial system.

It does not matter who is in the prisons, if in the streets there is violence, death, rape, etc ...

Uniformed criminals, driving luxury cars, businessmen; in the pulpits. In short, the system is a nest of filth.

Advertising media, large transactional they have used art as a means to sell your disposable products, that are not useful, or necessary, making art something cold, banal inhuman using subliminal messages, among other tricks to alienate.

Well, we also use art as a means, so that it returns to be an end.

Raising man over himself and about time, not about other men.

Let’s take things to subjective objectivity.

They have made us believe in so many things, They have put our faith in the immaterial, 43

36. With sense, we will be human There are humans but they have They disguise themselves as beasts, usually.

Science, and the arts, at their best. there are machines that do all the work, crops that use biotechnology, it’s the end ...

The first thing is that people have culture, science, development. No deception, no repression, no god.

- you have not taken something into account, or maybe you can; but it has always happened the same, there are imbeciles who want “Power” and are powerful over other imbeciles; there will always be some weak who need support, you can not adapt man to any system, some may live full of gods, others naked, others will not eat meat ... in short, it is not possible, although it is a noble goal.

And not everyone has the same vision of art, that would be totalitarianism.

The spirit spoke suddenly, and said to the alcoholized biology students, something stupid.

“You think you know the origins, the development and the cycle of life and living beings, but they are skeptical, they can not feel the existence of the cosmos, nor explain its composition.

“If they have a digestive system, Eat, eat. If you have ears listen, if you have a voice, speak. If they have hands touch, in short, use your body, but without causing harm, They must be aware of how weak they are.

44

37. At first prove That everything is fiction; but that assertion he led me quickly to laugh and formulate a new premise, what is not fiction?

It might sound fancy but that would be fiction.

There is no term that explains the reality efficiently, (Even if all the words are tools for such a company) the word is nice in fiction.

Even feeling is a fiction.

Everything is in the imagination, the imagination is material, matter is imaginable.

This manifesto is fictitious, and its conclusion I leave it to your imagination, as well as the rest of its content.

You immerse me in unfathomable depths, you take me to worlds where we are so weak, so insipid, you bring me back to this dimension, to this relatively new world.

It upsets me with horrible beings that I will never understand, shows me books that were only revealed to you, you leave me craving a little sanity and forgetting.

You show me how if it were a little speck of dust in space, which will disappear, you show us the hidden. Even knowing that I am less than that.

I just do not understand you when you show subtly your erudition. I love your simplicity, how easy you complicate everything, the labyrinth what you do in a sphere.

45

38. Paradoxical glimpses Should I laugh at you? Understand or interpret ?.

You have already spoken and you have said everything.

The spatial inversion (give space) of metaphysics , the man who saw the monkey and the superman. let it happen again!

You have taught me that there is something beyond good and evil, You have made me see the dirty corpse of God that still stinks.

I do not know you, but you will not know me either, so on my fictional ‘today’ day I will laugh for both of you.

It appeared suddenly seemingly so close, I was afraid of crashing. Now it seems like a mirage.

The sand irritates my eye and turns it into a tear. Evolution?

A day of silence. My mind recreates the sound and noise Will I be deaf? She was never afraid to die.

Confess: if I see a tunnel and a light, I will dance in circles.

Our infamous calculations did not fit to the permanent movement of the orbit, it was cut, it added, it absorbed.

When walking my foot sank and the ground was left behind, however, I felt fast. I hated sunning myself because it shows what we hate to forget may appear His tentacles touched my face through the screen.

46

39. The ship was spinning The horizon was hidden, yes. I know I will perish.

It may be that my eyes collapsed from blinking.

Impossible to be part of your happiness.

Denied access to the interior.

I will die in a few minutes.

High variability of emotions.

We can suggest a new formula to be perfect.

You’re happy to see me outside, even if you’re a machine.

I always thought you were more cruel than humans.

The frozen image similar to the coffin under the ground: hidden. Silent. She did not even look at my face.

Maybe it hurt, maybe he regretted not opening the door for me.

I did not leave voluntarily. False inertia removed me from the scene.

And the others? Are they also dead?

That was the beginning. The series seemed to know no end.

However, we recover the notion of time and space.

The million watches synchronized and running.

When we spend a lot of time in front of the light we turn purple.

As well. No one had recognized instructions for now.

We kept the appointment. 10 minutes before.

Two or three songs. I feel a strange pleasure in this game.

I do not care about the prizes, nor the places, neither the honorable mentions, nor even the results, I did not even get to the end or even start.

Just let me be here. His fast braid overflowing.

Intimus neckline of small triumphs, huge delights.

Why do some have their fists clenched or their mouths broken?

47

40. Interactive mannequin Long hair. Funny always beautiful.

Always illuminated Always showing the buttons of ignition with spontaneous colors.

In colors, it would be a locality. I enter. No one.

Maybe I’ll hang your legs in the photo.

All the perception of my world is based on images.

We left the network. And let’s talk like fish, Let’s exchange fluids to stay alive.

Let’s find bubbles where dust does not enter.

We nestled in a cable and let’s see how the beak of the birds becomes mineral.

I try to be exciting, but I am largely bored.

Tearful. The newly painted lines.

Maybe this morning. Light never seems to age.

Irrefutable sample that we are movement and not reaction.

Bells. We are about to start. Loading ...

Yes. I answered everything. His interrogation turned out nice.

The best lies are the least elaborate disguise.

We almost always meet to tell us that we can not see each other.

We look inside the window, trying to enter through the look, not to fall to the precipice, to keep trying to anchor us with the tip of my boots on the cutting edge.

Inevitably. We collapse. I was less bitter when I was immersed in formaldehyde, I degenerated in a sick guy. Idle. You cry out for my memory, my links are rusted.

You can not see me today either.

48

41. Neglected caresses When she spoke or tried to articulate a sound and he opened his mouth all was silence.

The music waves cut off suddenly.

Even the movements seemed static for the total absence of sound.

The atmosphere seemed linear and not wavy.

Maybe I could change the direction of time.

But sound does not make time.

The situation was painful, even more ironic it was for us to accept the results, sum of arbitrariness and false camaraderie that would unjustly grant a mental prisoner the new body.

The new body was able to feel millions of times more pleasure or pain, and obviously capable to bear it, to diminish it. With a will typical of those sensations, not of being.

Thus the pain manifests itself.

When we try to hurt ourselves we provoke a caress and vice versa.

Wanted by millions of people, by thousands of thoughts, for tens of centuries. I found it.

I was in front of the owner, in the room, surrounded by books and screens. Sculptures and objects.

He looked at my breasts for two thousandths of seconds every minute and in acceleration.

I never looked for that ‘treasure’.

At the beginning of time they were looking for 49

42. Sacred in one hand.

Balancing it as if wanting to pull it intentionally.

Even more tempting when I stared at my reflected face.

-In reality it has no value.

Apart from the tireless searches he has provoked.

It seems so simple. Almost ‘’ rude ‘’ to talk about flip flops, guts, tender things, love and polly. Pink colour. Yes. It almost seems perfect because it speaks from the outside, and a little inside scared, covered by some suggestive word.

I love her.

Do you want to see my disgust?

The bacteria and bugs that I ate today?

No. You know them just like me.

You also bite your filthy nails, you also shit coffee water and feel relief, and you do not say you have a pileup on the network.

You also look at the paper with your shit, you smell it and hesitate to wash your hands, Well I do not smell it and if I wash my hands.

You have also vomited.

Yes-you do not want to say goodbye to why you say goodbye?

Do not be afraid of me (stopped) (hangs) jismo.

Well, it is not an error: it is a complement.

Do not look in the clouds at your feet, puddle of light that reflects my only memory.

I hit because before I lost, I know the failed because I will not commit it again - you think.

And maybe I cheat again.

I am the very effect of the trinity. I. Your.

50

43. Complex gallstones US. Obsessive is the measurement of good and evil.

However necessary. A: I do not know how to solve the doubt?

Lie. Resolve your life, experiencing to guide others, it is so uncomfortable, we prefer to be miniatures to devour galaxies, Even if your voice is not the siren model, It is, it hypnotizes me.

Where is the emergency exit?

Where are the bathrooms?

Where can I take refuge from bombs?

How to recover hope?

Surely not asking.

We started the game. Load. Complete We run with light. No matter my position, My emotion grows without delay. Sample the sequence that your mind could deduce before my explanation. I open my eyes and you no longer watched.

Can you keep looking at me A) Yes? Forgive me for looking at my hands and not Not trusting them, not you: he said. Even so I can continue competing, not for winning.

For laughing My brother will laugh when I die.

And all must be marmots.

And think about machines that cry, and humans who vomit what makes us happy, momentarily, is not our moment a minute?

Let’s develop the destruction of nonconformity.

51

44. All ‘’ in ‘’ Even if we renounce what is indispensable, to the immense, immune and imminent.

We breathe and believe that the air will always be there.

They are thousands and they seem to us emes. ies Eles, it’s, stool.

Carrion consumed the first turn. I want.

Inside you could be infinite and do without matter.

Red. Get me. Can you send me to another place other than the news?

Can you give me a little melange?

Can you flood another country even if people die?

Can you model a body without flaws for me?

If so. I can give you my soul.

Absorb my cells, sick, outdated.

Miserables hungry for life, nourished by survival.

Safe death in ten minutes.

Unless fear does not come by seizing my conscience.

It’s so easy to create an obsession of many other injuries that you try to hide.

You make an animal god to give you divinity for feeling blasphemed. Am I in the address that you do not dare to take because you think you know the way?

Do not.

It’s as simple as scratching your head to to (huy) (m) entar ideas. Or look at the sky to See what is under your feet again?

This is the game, an area full of corpses, zombies and ghosts of light, hungry, tired and full of radioactive matter.

52

45. Distorted Hologram It’s like a mirror that shows your image distorted by serial.

Drops escaping the clouds, afraid of not falling, Disintegrated in my tongue before I know salt.

Fertilized the heart, full of rotten crops, pests and poisonous herbs.

Why should vegetables grow in the balcony pots?

Immediate content with unnecessary urgencies, I saw the street full of controlled powers and restricted automatisms.

I raised my euphoria, recited new ways of making music and to sing to those who watched with fear and hatred.

I recognized some sounds, two hundred seconds of undecided reach and false persecution.

Few are the clots that obstruct the passage of matter.

Same as the guttural lizard that the first man ate.

We are like dinosaurs for viruses: huge, stupid, destructive and weak against reason.

The track was wet all night and part of the morning I had breakfast, the liquid asphalt, unforeseen accidents, who could leave the spoon with so many ants, Inside, we could observe shadows like mirrors.

You can lie and eat in the corner restaurant.

I recognized unprecedented anguish in his clothes, but I wish in your hands. Sedatives, seeing something ahead that was only in his mind. We will omit your claim again.

In our system: we decide the duality of acts.

Not the rules that merge with the chain.

53

​​46. Disconcerting answer It is an expected response. So much that I was disconcerted.

But we found relief when listening to his breathing.

We must explore the limits of human artifice.

Not for helping them. To convince us: eliminate our faith with apocalyptic prophecy.

Nobody understood my blasphemy.

It is not to replace the parts, nor to see how other generic pieces fit together, because the originals will never exist.

It is a new system, a new order, a new chaos, it is not changing the direction of the hands.

It is not looking at the moon. It is to create the earth. It is not creating light.

It is to show the emptiness in which we are immersed.

If this is not hope, it is nihilism.

I feel like my perception is reduced to mysteries.

Merciless paradoxes as implants struggling with the rest of my biology.

Who is she? A symbol. United by the escape untimely, provisioned with fake search.

I feel afraid to touch a body if it is not through my chainsaw.

Fear of your greatness or your weakness.

From my exhaustion and its elevation.

Sometimes my skin looks weird.

It is more difficult to cover the image if it is not by means of a screen.

They are human. His body scares me, sometimes he calls me and other times it hurts me.

I can not understand their faces or their sounds.

Nor my vision cut by the non-experience.

54

47. Blowjobs of light Erect nipples, not three-dimensional.

Clean hands that look like spots.

Shaved vulvas that look liquid.

Liquids that do not flow, paralyzed in your mouth.

It could be my body and not a plastic.

Excited by light.

For your look in the lens.

You would never have thought of me.

You do not care about my time.

Not my frustration.

Your body will never leave the screen.

I can never enter even if you are always exposed.

Some virus contains your code.

Some bug may look like a pixel.

I’m not afraid to experiment.

The decision to eliminate me will not depend on me.

It was today when they looked at me, they asked among themselves.

Why can not you prove the silence?

I faked polar dementia. I can go untimely and save the sharp phrases for other screens.

Carve with sonar hands, soft incessant hammering like the skin on the bone. Without muscle.

We confuse or take advantage.

55

48. Adherent machine The world moved on its own axis, my mind It did not suggest the clock, it always ignores us and it’s number a hand, always seems never to end.

I share with other hundreds a digital altar of you, but I do not share my adoration. We will eat the vanilla clouds.

The more gray and redder the better.

Inside me there is a circuit that melts with cells and they create a perfect cave for the bats that you send by legions.

I could be sick, and still pretend health.

I could be crazy and see myself reasonable.

It could be almost anything. But I do not want to lie I could imagine you, but you exist.

The cosmic map is the shadow of my finger covering the sun.

The worlds microscopic saliva full of virus cycles.

Inner heartbeat variant, without own absence.

Melody infinitely thunderous herself.

Ultravacia life product giving us scares.

They are afraid of wasting their time by listening the same. And again. Again the same one.

Make sure you do not leave your doubts free.

Doubts, make sure you can not escape.

Oblivion heals this terrible epidemic of memories.

Seeing you only in photos makes me believe that you are image and not be.

You look at the lens, my pupil beats like a duel, we lose.

Self-induced self-induced exhibitionism.

56

49. New unusual perception Again this unusual reception: you abandon your life.

For a game, is not it a game?

Why are you so excited about being the prize of an arranged competition?

Again I feel weak. And the birds. The bird of my shield petrified in its flight of thread. We need to be ingredients and not diners. I do not care if you signed, because you wrote the rules. Do we memorize the tricks? suppose it hurts and you are also the cure.

Do we light a fire in the oven or do we mix correctly?

Repeat your name, maybe with my voice do not remember how it sounded in him.

Miserable passengers, in front of the screen, anxiously watching the memory load, ignoring that the intelligence of the machine is greater and therefore benevolent to let us triumph.

Noisy rivers rolled across the screen, the game begins. Registry. Account.

Password. Starts the game.

Scenario 1. Cold, gradually turning to warm with rain.

Wind. I walked out very slowly, I always have a stranger afraid to go down the ladder and slip. The winds always they dwarf the eyes and scrape the lungs.

They played twice, it’s our key. I try to look up and she down to see us at the level. Works.

It temporarily works. The yellow corner before It was gray blocks. Why this game is no longer so conventional and the weapons are not metal, nor do the victims die?

57

50. Expired episodes I can show you the episode of the end of the world, but do not insist on seeing flowers, so look at the suns of a galaxy.

Maybe with a planet with beings that invent light.

Today I saw more cubes are the stars and more spirals in the light of the fire.

Ego itinerary to see you again, alone, showing us the time consumed in your skin. You are always in the cold, safe, simply by paralyzing you in time.

If I can hold your heart in wind arteries, I can unscrew the clouds, weld in the rains.

I am not the lens that sees you.

The formula of my drug, the most effective cure: nothing.

I know: I can only feel my body because you are matter.

Remove the floor and look down where do my feet turn?

We enter the game. Artificial light. Game panel.

Your context Industrial-colony-neo baroque. Marginalized Rich. They. US. God. The beasts. Dust. Steel.

Plastic, a lot of plastic. Plastic in the food, in the ear, on the body, in the eyes. Smiles Crying. All. Yes. Loaded. Pale faces that emulate black. Views panoramas, Chusco rivers, pearl roses, scarlet rainbow, mountain mucus.

Mud tree Valles breasts, urine waterfalls, wind breath.

Wood, cement, floor screws screws loose cords, driving brake cars automata killers.

I abandoned my agnosticism by recognizing your divinity.

I know: I must see you in this landscape, cross those rocks with walking, the earth will push me to nausea.

Landscapes swept by the smoke, in the nests metal buttons electrocardiograms oxide. The idea of ​​a world where everyone 58

51. Tangled circles.

And only snow at the angles of plastic ornaments.

As you want to see the temperature, according to varying temperament. Greenmocion.

(Other) We are sometimes on the terrace I envy to the two people who look down there so small and unmarked, thrown physiologically happy although the floor is not ergonomic.

Nudes, warm bodies due to evolutionary need, with rags on top so as not to burn the eyes.

And look for the (magical) cloud that I thought you might be seeing.

Totally blue sky -imaginas there?

-above?

- There’s no up. There, where my finger points, points thousands of kilometers, by moving even a few degrees, while I tremble and the earth moves, and the galaxy, and other beings who also point, possibly travel in this direction.

The inhabitants are light, they are waves, in each image that somebody has arrived, to collapse your machine, to move the floor and throw you, to want you there, with them, sunbathing, holding a bottle of poison, luxury and sleep ...

-I’m cold.

He crossed a patio almost rotten inside and dry on the outside, flooded with dried leaves, worms for fruits, pale yellow old age, liquid vacuum mirrors crystals were, rock floor, intestine mud of thick spots, dark backgrounds.

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52. Ravenous bread Room escapes asleep smell ornaments thing exit to bloom nearby heat never. I left. Yes. A small tunnel I wrap my body completely eros on Latin brew ringing trapped there anguish bad mood I see things splendor pink power roses have love close in my mind.

On the other side floor pictures apt to contain one back, and from there (points) look like cloth cuadrigatos, fine wefts weak by worn out they make new literbasura.

I also smoke every chewable system to give harmony.

-do not watch them-I smiled-she always looks at the sky.

Maybe he knows a little about his existence - I looked at the sky but you have not seen them pair (t) go. However, it did not stop me Maybe he’s crazy. But he still feels wise.

While they feel their normal heart then They are not seen and that disappointed them a bit.

-I could be there, inside of the dark layer even admirable cloudiness of spatial star possible mothers waiting for navels connected to them.

I thought it would be good harmony to come and browse.

I want to understand syntax sni chew guts bite jellies that will make half the world like cat urine interpretation of winged mammals kept in constant war to facilitate life and impoverish the spirit tombs of 60

53. Landscape of sordid postcard She just looks and points out where nothing is seen.

All distracted, believing to always observe because she never sees them. Mistake, she always He knows they are wrong. And they have only seen a landscape.

Courage and dress 1. moisten crying pains, they make smiles to decorate their faces, Sometimes they turn their face flesh to follow pale beautiful cranio-bones, they look and flee, they talk and you die.

Ribs glued to the bone. Not big, nor small, that’s all in it = perfect.

Wise experimental combination of science and comedy, ungrateful satisfaction for a bottle destined to break in the next fall. Black abyss eyes, basic neutral, red distilled to be pure.

Fertile field of hallucinated memory.

Discover your charm in my failed description of you and of the chaos that covers you, I distort harmony.

Mutant races evolving, perfect to be eternal, eternal so as not to move. Today can be any day not different from yesterday or tomorrow morning would dawn in a few humid hours between the souls together.

You shine on irresistible fields, your reflection dazzles you, you lose your feet do not know your knees the ground, they do not know the wings more than the wind.

Clothes stuck always stuck together to the skin, sometimes eating free samples of drinks from your breast.

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54. Admirable to know.

The last sample of you, the innate freshness that you steal to the walls tears of plastic that melts your languid heart to give vampire spasm at noon.

And it has only been an allusive look at false love.

Actions.

We look at ships planes invaded travelers houses by poets violated by the sound of a woman wailing, it does not matter, our poetry is also muscle, we are verb being flesh. And it has only been one night.

No. I do not like this game, or this scenario.

New game. Score. 10000. point name. Cancel Scenario 2. the only way out, slip down a tube, Maybe you lose your hands, your knees swell, your muscles disappear or you believe in God. The corner is swallowed by the Corren, flee, fire, chaotic seas rumble thousands dead fish cows goats dying in aid to solidarity marketing. lights, penetrating gray atmosphere.

Lie reforest in silence at night alone, absent sound mixed with colorful clones.

Now it is valid to burn with ice on the face boil inside and feel the wind cool because it’s steel and liquid molten glass with nothingness.

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55. Call for attention Try calling. The attention talking about loneliness, sadness and pain, yes. Listen to me. Do not let me fall, raise my shadow that is like a cloud Once again outside, again counting the pain in a vacuum in the stomach, the lungs with roots in the smoke, the rewarding renunciation of being a hero or not guilty.

Do you see why I insist so much in joining the machines?

Yes. I told you because you knew them. If they are small, red, green, yellow. Most impressive: the tear drawn on your hundred. What to say again?

Neither the climate has changed but we feel chills every moment, your breath will be plastic, my memory will expire also but remembering.

Sometimes it seems that all of life are memories that you will ever hear or I read and stole that phrase to think that maybe that memory reminds me of life, and memory, and fantasy, and the unpaired anesthetic image, wrapped, erect and swollen.

If it were me, they would have to change the piece, if they were the ones down there we would continue flying. Scare me again and I’ll laugh when I discover your joke.

I must be covered with a head piece to be able to observe you, they allowed me to enter the game, join hands, pray to the absent god.

It’s the breeze, not the fantasy charm, you bigger than you are, you wanted to hug me 63

56. True recent Society can not stain stimulating idea.

It’s a game.

I always said that the machines are beautiful screens communicate how your body is.

And you? Poor human solid virus structures, vulnerable stupid Just because he can see your face from above you must feel that it is immortal.

Impotence gets bigger, and it’s not paradox that impotence makes me small, more insignificant of how I imagine myself to be. It is again the false security to be me Again the scathing imagination that believes To be honest when saying this. Truly I forgot what I wanted to write. The speech has been lost, in a sanwuiche, in toothpaste, in greeting the animals, the female was once human ...

I still remember the untimely without reason to exist, the grumpy look of those beings, that despite from being strangers they called us venerable.

Androids need new parts, pieces what’s in the trash, in the house, in the street, waiting to fit into a system, far from being considered garbage they are divine, among the garbage we are garbage, in the heaven we are god and that’s why they send us to hell, in the inferno we get angry so they return us to the world, moved by the anxieties, sedative results in memory to incapacitate the moving demolishing present and feeds the uncertainty, sow human uncertainty, filthy, fiction also nourishes you.

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57. No longer feeling We no longer feel the calmness of your presence, we no longer look at the sky looking for canaries, we do not obey the orders of a minority that tried to push us to the good, we will never pay attention to pious lies, nor universal truths, we will not scale everests, nor snow Himalayas for the molars, we will not dig in the pit of your legs, nor close your eyes to not see our tears, we need a mimesis of mimesis, Â parody? I do not know. This should be read or understood, understand not to memorize. At least that throws up my self-esteem and uncertainty, the rancid passion in the fridge.

Radioactivity, aerodynamics, popcorn, all perfect for being synthetic, all synthetic for being unnatural human.

Positioned in the center of the city with the earth in all directions with space above the head covered in blue so that it seems nice to us, of gray so that it shelters us in black to make us feel, agglomerated graphic minorities in the crystals, waiting for them to become liquid and they bring us like mirrors, many have been the days gone by, so many that now they start again, they end up smelling or brains have ... and so on until everything goes through the streets again, another story is repeated, otherwise it would not be history, another infected memory for life, another setback to nothing, another ruin that feels powerful, another viable image to be destroyed, another robot in my machine that is not me. It’s not you The last words insulted to the asphalt, better me I knew the artificial grass and not the thorns.

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58. Insufficient anesthesia Better inject me with drugs and do not get bitten by bees better resuscitate the third day and not when I am dying, one last favor ... tell them if they have a new piece for my encouragement that has broken ... put me in the clouds and atame to the beak of a bird to see through its eyes how small that they are at a prudent distance. Finally.

I will repeat the most shocking, voracious, minimal and universal image, synthesis and prelude, humaquina: dry tear in your enervated yes.

Ritual: a ritual corresponds perhaps to a way of doing things, Better to learn to do them.

That’s why unnecessary movements are justified with ‘’ energies ‘’ ‘’ magic ‘’ ‘’ gods ‘’. That is.

Ritual movements are unnecessary accidents of not knowing. On the second occasion or in later ‘’ rituals ‘’ you can repeat the movements of not knowing, but now it will be the reason for forgetting. That’s how we all acted. Almost…

Sometimes they think that talking about oneself is simple.

But I’m talking about others through me, That’s what worries me. The bits of naivety that are not covered, the false memory and the false environment designed to make you afraid. It’s cold. you do not believe me?

Open the window, scream, shout here, where you are, if someone listens to you, you will think he thinks.

If you did not scream, keep reading ... my hair hurts, from combing them one day they will open my brain.

This is a game of relays, goals, races, speed, patience.

They flapped their wings waiting to go back in time.

But oh impossible task of harmonic perception.

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59. In the puppet network I’m tired of so much literary, tropos blowjob and figures, someday I’ll shake my cellar and maybe find the key to leave ... for now I am in the network.

Waiting to be told who they are and how I can help them ...

Burns the house where they live, maybe they can stand your corpse next to yours.

Sorry patient reader for not having plot. But to see ... grab the wave, enter the wave ... this is the wave: it’s a fucking virtual game that manifests itself and a pendejete that is playing in reality but she is not interested in the blowjobs that they and others are looking for, It’s a fart like that. Oh It is also detachable (as I am according to the tap) or unpleasant, disillusioned and disillusioned, uncovered, disposable, desirous, disproportionate, disproportionate, and all those adjectives, verbs and adverbs to subordinate with the postfix ...

I see gloves where there are hands, thorns where there are flowers, scorpion sting in the tail of the cars.

Lies in confusions confused in allegories, at last.

There is one minute of infinity, one night to solve the misfortune of my bones, frying eggs and heating tortillas I will save lives, wait for the truck even if it is the wrong route, finally ... all the lines point to themselves.

False hunters of imaginations, lion hunters of dreams frozen miniatures in the photos, mysterious is the microwave when it is closed, when nothing is directed to the mind privileged of the systems.

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60. Entropic transport I spent more than 10 months behind the glass, sleeping, no-dreaming, I just saw incomprehensible images, translated into misery, only, far away and under observation, evidencing particles, they rebuilt my body while I said goodbye to God, never to see him again ...

I used to hire your image with my memories and that’s why I stopped thinking in perceptions and turn to the senses, so many degrees how my eye trembles involuntarily due to the pressure and even then the atmosphere is cool.

That’s when, my neck, my lips, with my eyes closed looking from side to side according to his eyelid.

People passed, climbed, climbed down, metal concrete stairs and dust compact, insufficient mysteries to be investigable.

We went for a bottle of water and thought inertly in psychology, she too but with a lively feeling, as if in two and the speed inserted will devastate the memory that she sometimes forgets as when she stroked my ear with her tongue.

We raise our feet to avoid hitting the door, my hand is the empty glove, the locomotive in the museum looks like an old being.

For my silence to bite your guts, I swallowed the worms that you carry inside and vomit them in colorful candy.

Hi. I do not know who you are but I want to show you what they do not see, just see my mechanical movements, empty words full of holes, mutations that lead to failure, 68

61. Solar with tents To find gold-covered miniatures and giants full of air, I do not know what I intend, but you are desecrating my atheism with your divinity ...

The screens lie, your simple and complex cat face, Black waves in your hair, fantastic paradise of drowning.

Sometimes the reflection shows the most united, unique things, different by amorphous, bright by reflection and bright by being.

What will you do now? Better said: I do not know what you’re doing right now, maybe you read this and you do not realize I know about your distraction.

Come back, hey, go up the stairs with me, tour, see me with curiosity disgusting green mucus with carbon wig. Decide the mortality of humanity, chaos and disorder, comes with chainsaw or shovel.

With whip or pillow. The assistant of my computer It has all the answers up to maybe your name in some sequence.

They played incessantly, with technique but no visors, or at least So I felt the abyss, the fear of saying something in an unknown language, not for not-listened, unknown for not being thought.

And now well, we came back, the blue fabric around your neck.

Why do not I take my hands off my body?

What is there in heaven that I can reach?

Sometimes I can imagine loneliness, in conversations in leisure.

Flow the criminal free substance of red prey.

Where? Where?

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62. Disturbed meridians Natural to route not of numbers of meridians confused by the fifth address here.

I dont know. Also the sky is blue, which is less polluted?

The sea is dirty, I do not want to be a dolphin and commit suicide, the sky is After a smoke screen, I do not know the elements that I have breathing this night of glances, eyes and eyes.

How much time have I lost repairing connections that I have lost count of the losses and the profits, I’m breaking with no other recourse than these few letters Weak syntax, unshuttered, carefree and evicted.

Screws on the stones so as not to slip on plastics, happiness consists maybe to cover the sun with the shadow of a poster and not with the hand, it is easier to close the eyes, watch TV next to a remote control with the numbers intact, with the low batteries and the slippery volume, the table screeching at 5 degrees extra weight, the infinite pages calculated in million and a half, the summit ears of my death, away from the streets I can cry waiting for them to feel, and all this is the most subtle way of having only one screen, a turn and new game ...

There are hours, days, months, and still water is still and the animals do not know when the next meteor will arrive ...

You know what I observe and the trip of the order observed me with the eyes of the letters that are always open.

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63. Not always (I am) looking.

Do you see why I’m funny? Or mysterious monster What came out of the lake? Maybe a broken machine co ...

I do not feel happy to run away better is the best, yes, we stop.

To the sky the dirty filth of the kitchen, the cockroaches liquid celery, tuna and beans, nibelungos of middle age, they contract the heart, the blood mixes with something I do not know, however I must answer, Try to escape from this horrible death sentence.

Let me fall, do not raise it because it will destroy Babylon and a sion and we will not be able to navigate through space without ports like those.

The only road closed by rain, drowning in the throat the absent saliva, the imagination wake up while they sleep, just imagine the power that those discs have on the poles of light hill, will cross crossing ladies plump ones that make boats one season, while it is not raining so it is not water and oil.

Dna Basic formula re programmable, only combinable, present or paused, one of these days we will wake up together, shielding the sky, I soldering and you breaking unintentionally. Not by choice, I am a dissection, binary defohermoso, habit in blue room platico fat Protests and false rebellions ordered in order, and in the windows, You seek to sleep, to rest, not to live in me, I am like someone’s home that always works, it’s not the abandonment though It feels more humid.

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64. The abyss plumbed The abyss plumbed and never injected in bar code on the name, mutant mammal of the many listen.

Save me from falling to the point, the comma goes after my secret. in the desert, waiting for flat snakes of poison liquid and we are fed, that was a stage of functionalism, that’s why my psychology works in my hands molding figures and not in my words biting my head Hahaha. I am: pretty ugly. That’s why you love me ....

I think of all the ones that I wrote the one that came to you It was this. (That’s how all my letters start in case gets lost along the way) good: let’s get serious, keep looking at the letters know I watch you and that you have not stopped observing the letters that I am.

Letters, syllables, verbs, purifying adjectives and toxic nuclear connective.

Look at me now. Go to the front, back, down up where I am Note that this happened a few seconds ago, What would the hours say? It’s feline the romanian.

This is how things come, far from memory, away from the arrogant atmosphere called school, unbalanced ministry of explosive materials, creators of stars, suns and not planets.

Of the only thing that I would not feel owner, maybe pet, Kitsch or classic adornment that never dies or altar of kisses and words ... tickling and smiles, cloud palettes wrapped in sunbeams, Moons stars impossible moons of you.

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65. Entrepreneur contest

That little light is the galaxy, I will conquer or I’m just looking for my madness.

I carry the product bottle in my hand, step and everyone looks at it, change the inconsiderate image and they all appear happy, enlightened, with the bottle in their hands.

I would love to see my ideas in commercials of products sold, I would feel that I control something of the market and thus a part of the world, a space public, enterprising, young, talented, beautiful, without errors, without drugs, with books and with ink experiences like this.

All at the same time we start a piece of paper, How much toilet rolls are turned to the minute in the world?

Blood, visors, worms, feat, poetry, lips, imagine.

That’s how it should feel when he left me on the stairs, with the door closed under pressure and down darkness that ate the stairs woods looking down I saw some red dots deceiving my painful eyes.

Look at the ruin in which you enter maybe the entrance is so lonely the neglect of the environment and inside I keep pictures it is horror and it is medieval science and futurist nihilist.

Mines of noise, fluids, machines and silence …

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66. Des ... graceful.

Listening to your voice again will implant your figure the women in our mind, always want to talk, We always listen and open our mouths.

Des-exist, disinterested of my despair, untying knots with images, everything you do with images, even the matter that contains you is uncertain, maybe hostile maybe you’ll regret showing harmony where there is more than pain, sweet skin that your clothes steal.

Why are slow animals depressing you?

Because you measure time with your step, with circular steel hands that sometimes stop for lack of battery, not because the sun stops, because the heart fails. although my way of writing has changed.

It is no longer so ... atomic radiant metaphysics atomic it’s more ... realistic anomaly wise helpless with hunger for everything but I’m still the same alchemist product biological and mystical objective medicine.

I’m going to put a bag of water on the roof from my room so that the flies go I look for my sixth sense in the trash can on television a relief and in my hands your body.

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67. Destroyer of blossoms While distilling the wise of your lips strange flower Tell me about your planet Venus, we thought that it was just a gas cloud.

Bodies floating in the concrete garden, in the clotheslines millions of archaic demon threads and decomposing bodies, rot in wind in contact with the flight of air.

Injured, multiple infected hands of pleasure looking for resentment in any road junk, no.

Are you looking for freedom? I ask for hope.

I just want to decorate my cell, “he replied.

I do not ask, I do not answer, I do not exaggerate the truth with clumsy words, I do not digest the light, They were in my country and I in my town.

Nothing. Nutritious.

Experience is not everything, you will see, I would like be your conscience when you are pulling a litter on the street, and be your distraction when they lose money, or they throw it away, or even be the reptile thief who steals to spend in bullshit, and being at the same time the misanthrope that sells to the thief and invests in some institute not this one in favor of abortion, and be ‘(once again) the bastard product of an unwanted pregnancy, and I’ll restart this chain by making a poster for “Conscientiiar” to the people of the ‘ecology’.

Only the synthetic will survive.

Evolution ... nothing evolves; there is a moment, so short, in which everything seems perfect, when we walked hand in hand, when we laughed, when we kissed in front of the church and we separated at the same time because the music on the street was horrible, when we entered the church and we kissed and some tourists saw us weird, and some old Puritans 75

68. Plague your cumbia The suns wither in a vacuum, the plagues succumb to pollution.

The march of the passers-by is noisy but nothing tells us, and even so we understand the anguish that makes us walk, as if the floor were paper and our oil soles, and the heels of some lip prostitute, the boots of a coal worker that the wind red took away, the favorite color of the midday sun.

Red that turned brown, tennis shoes are white, gums maybe, my steps and the steps of my similar are so diverse and yet dark ... and all papers rot with rain.

It’s a stupid whim, I want only you.

Although it could well have anyone as a thing, there are many humans thinking it myself.

The me, my mind, my spirit, what is the fiction?

What I feel, what I think I feel, what is supposed I understand that I feel.

What I see, what I feel, do I really feel it?

Yes. Whatever you are. You will.

Under what conditioning live ?.

What fears prevent act as I want to act, how a self without fear, without means to guide me, and divert me to places where I can not open my mouth, even having exquisite dishes in front of me.

I can not even smell them.

It’s a magic trick, it’s an act of science, it is a vision of faith; It is not more than we need it to be.

It’s a strange repulsion, a question without logic, how a logic without questions, if you want to know more contact me.

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69. Virtual deliveries Neither.

Even if it’s amazing, it can not even be labeled of absurdity, it is less than a dream, it is not, it stopped being, it is and I ruin the surprises, and we ruined this strange surplus value of nightmares.

Do they hear the sound of stool (the poop) disintegrating in the sea of plastic? ​​ Do you hear how the fish chew our shit ?, Do you hear how the shit contained in unicel is cooked in the meat of polypropylene pigs?

Sometimes, only sometimes, very occasionally, You see things so ... as if nothing digested me.

Imagine the skills they went through my two finalized female robots refuse to be with me I hope you’re how I imagine you, beautiful, thin, fragile, pale, that the curtains of your room are permanently closed, Your room is painted purple, red, in blue or black, have posters of our favorite groups, that you have some fetus in formaldehyde, some grotesque paintings that you are proud of because one of your aunts was scared and persified, have two expected condoms in a box, that your clothes are thrown by any place; that you consider yourself morbid and decadent and that you take it as a joke ... then I will make you laugh ... ... imagine yourself on a beach, there are no clouds, It’s a half day, you, inside your bathing suit pink, with two hearts and little bunches, the day is perfect.

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INDEX: Foreword 1. Deadly Substrate 2. Rendered Driver 3. Tasty Strawberries 4. Advertising Disposal 5. Embrace / la - Inmor (t) al 6. Dog Shit or Artist 7. Riot Ghosts 8. Silicone Refil 9. Daily Exile 10. #Mezcales 11. Hyperrealistic fatigue 12. The coffin and the machine 13. Real Whole 14. Insensitive Android 15. Good Business 16. Against Uncertainty 17. Concerned about fun 18. Stagnant Certainties in Posthumous Damping 19. Reincarnation with Lilith ...

20. Squirt and Alchol 21. The Stone Doesn’t Work 22. Negative Attitude 23. Mormons Saluting 24. Orthodox Vanguard 25. Sweet Paranoia 26. Pop Star (o) 27. Programming Change 28. Accidental Coincidence 29. Ignoring Like Ghosts 30. Chidoando Chido 31. A God Will Kill Me He didn’t believe me 32. Better A Cursed Fetish 33. In Neutral Birth

page 4 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41

34. At Sea ...

35. With the Banquet Edge 36. With Sense, We Will Be Human.

37. Initially demonstrate 38. Paradoxical Ostentations 39. The Ship Turned 40. Interactive mannequin 41. Denied Caresses 42. Sacred In One Hand 43. Biliary Calculus Complexes 44. All ‘’ In ’’ 45. Distorted Hologram 46. ​​Puzzling response 47. Light Blowjobs 48. Adherent Machine 49. New Unusual Perception 50. Expired Episodes 51. Tangled Circles 52. Ravenous Bread 53. Sórdida Postal Landscape 54. Admirable to Know 55. wake up call 56. Recent truth 57. No Longer (s) 58. Insufficient Anesthesia 59. In the Puppet Network 60. Entropic Transportation 61. Solar with Tents 62. Confused Meridians 63. Not Always (I’m) Looking 64. The Abyss Plumbed 65. Entrepreneur Contest 66. Des ... graceful 67. Destroyer of Florescences 68. Plague your Cumbia 69. Virtual Deliveries

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