drones

Unsurprising, the crossing drones lights are broken, a freedom of vehicles and nervous flesh… hardware of collectable product, the very latest of yesterday, the Fungal Jerks, Mucus Badly, the Cock Spondex’s and the rest, idling in retroid peelings, pixelated cocks in the adult section, a juice of cumshots in multiplayer aisles, commutative sensation, diseased social theory and a out of place stinker by Horis Jumston, arboreal thought, a voiceless falling tree… verts fall to dark forms at twilight, some sense of time still remains, then they gush back to full luminance, a sedentary Grand Prix, racing across historic bones, on the hill, above the multi-storey, dull wrecks, torn metal, lubricated with the usual encouragements, consumed along with the crowd…