Summons

There is no god, only

death.

Assurance to you sir Monsieur Hebbs, neurons contort,

your head covers

the hole

in your

heart.

Peaces’ illusion dotes you,

nails boomeranging off static waves of

TV SCREEN.

Chaos first begets order

and the children of the sun will burn far

past the children of man. I

pray.

Stand up, wake up shake

yourself past this

STATIC OF FEAR.

Soon you will sleep forever.

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