Poem: "Reading Necronomicon at New York Comic Con" (NSFW)
An ode to H.R. Giger inspired by the recent premiere of Alien: Covenant and a recent episode of the Stuff To Blow Your Mind  podcast. I've had a thing for the erotic biomechanical horror of Giger's work since I was nine years old, and a significant sub-basement of my psyche is devoted to the xenomorph. Enjoy!

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Reading Necronomicon at New York Comic Con:
So wrong, my clothes are tight
like Han in Carbonite,
might get a callus tonight,
metallic phalluses bite
vestigial human in scenes
of pumping stillbirth machines,
I jump into the regimes
of ancient alien queens
and clumping organs between
the shiny carapaces
and their mute and chrome-toothed faces,
plugged into a Hell so hot it's issuing steam
from its uncountable pistons,
the walls all howling and hissing,
her hollow gaze an invitation
to its red instantiation,
orifices full of horror,
choking and pleading
for my sweet release,
surrendered into the feast  of the dark erotic,
abyss devouring goddess
with her vagina dentata,
biomechanical blotting-out
hope and everything sane,
black hole into the profane,
and then I wake up in the exhibition screaming her name,
they all look up from their games,
and it sets in like a stain:
there's no reversing the change.
Glistening Lilith lips spread to show cables,
profusions of tubes and bare vertebrae,
tables upending as everyone runs for their lives,
I smile eyelessly, child of the night
with my dripping incisors,
silent postvital dark Christ of deep space,
limbs lithe and spread wide
in consuming embrace.

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