you kill ur loved ones, one by one

delving deep into their guts, swishing around all inside

you stare so blankly, with no happiness or love in ur eyes

ripping her skin off, ur hand delves deep now, blood covered palms

blood dries on ur arms, while in new areas it seeks how it can splotch onto you as ur arms move around the insides, so possessed , , , swishing around allll lll insideeeeeeeee the voicee whissssperrssss

robot repeats to her master, "can you help me feel love?"

master cuts her neck and she's left a broken machine

laughing kid unplugs his grandpa from the machine providing life support, the doctors give the kid a thumps up as the grandpa looks mortified on his life beddying and watching his grandson pull the last little wire providing him with life

"The old cost so much", a wandering nomad says to his wife, his wife beats him on the head,

given language by her, lost in divine sinking, she threw a pile of bile on her husband, as was custom, loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, delving their hands deep in shit, the robot puts someone's anus right up next to various sensors that allow her to breath, copied off of a dog's nose

the robot crashes feeling an intense negative reaction to it, possibly still hooked up to the animal by which human researchers are utilizing within this test

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, this is the tick it makes apparently when exposed to this smell, why shit, Im not really sure, but feces tended to be a strong thing to bring about a reaction when testing the pieces of animals connected up to these various

chinese hotels tend to be crashing, poor infrastructure, seems America and China's future has been lost in nuclear wipes

we'd just remove nukes, but the master AI program needs to know whether or not it's still, within origin, while needing it for paranoia intensification, everyday life could end, tomorrow , she says, he, him, lost, connection, ruptured necks, cracked skulls, dead futures