Greetings from my Cell

If I tell you it’s an Android do I get sympathy, revulsion, ambivalence or comraderie? What flares up in you?
what’s the frequency Kenneth?

I’m a ghost leaving digital footprints on a time/space called 'Medium' (pace)

A 'platform' with the audacity to recommend “How to Suck-seed on Medium" at the top of my reading list.

Is that how we decide where to channel our content, Medium submissives of SubStack doms?

This place is no joke. If I drop a couple not bad riffs, enough for a coffee shows up firsthamunth. Typing here now in hopes next month there’s enough for smoke, cause when I’m sucking in it’s to breathe fire.

Anyway -

This is being swyped across a piece of glass in a shed in Oklahoma, two years since the world got sick. Don’t anyone seem any sicker than normal, but Set says be scared, be apart — and they turn into birds while they’re in their cells and chirp about it… but if Set says, Is is.

They brought down the Two Towers and made them both Vags, and the womb ain’t Sacred no more, but I hear the new Matrix is Rotten and fake. Archonic in its nature, devoid of creation and capacity thereof.

I love you, from my Cell. Like in Valerie’s letter, with my head bowed to a black screen in a shed in Oklahoma. I love the part of you that feels the feels, that we can’t talk about — the reader part, the narrator.

If in your story I get but one line, let it be:

I love you.