GeneBuggBanyard

The room is swan white and silent. The Avatar proceeds over all.   Flesh carriers are considered low risk. Maintenance chip inoculates imagery with subliminal code. Do not mimic trickery and brutality: conscious key to the end. Gene Von Banyard.

Cavort over cobblestone and broken windowpane, Scream and laugh then sit quietly and think: Gentle washes of lucidity brought about by dedicated pause. Never leave heaven too quickly for God has quickened us to hell. Gene Von Banyard

Pernicious fancy equals manifest destiny. Semantic disarray verging on carnality. Bubble and boil in the Tower of Babel. With the beast provoked lips will parch and the sight will blur. The bell of Mort will toll whilst blood cells surge. Gene Von Banyard.

Stop, children, what’s that sound? Why it’s the dead clawing their way through rotten coffin and distended earth, flesh falling free by the wayside guided on by the dead-sight that has pin-pointed their prey so, what are you going to do, when the dead come creeping for you? What are you going to do? When the dead come creeping for you! Shake of this mortal coil and follow a dead line down a diseased track, a matter of no fact, a fucked up face, a mortal disgrace stares lop-sided back at you but, the mirror will not crack? There is no heart to attack, so what compels you? What drives you? Is it the emptiness of the shell left no n

Demonic dolls dripping acid drops into microdots for Barbaric bogans to create chaotic commotion, A telekinetic serial killer, a spine-chilling thriller, My words are like venom to your cerebellum, Trapped in a system within a cubicle prison, Self-medicated lethargy, destroying any last Remnant of motivation and energy. What's my name? Whatever I damn well choose it to be? No appellation proliferation will manifest my destiny. Imminent death is all about me,   No galaxy can avoid Saturnalia inevitability, City streets, dark and replete with bloodied sheets, slit-wrists, And smashed windowpanes, spreading diseased shards throughout this mu

The blood laps at my feet, Skeletal remains in the sand, The anatomy is all wrong but “We've discovered a new species!” she screams, All I have discovered is death. Gene Von Banyard.

Day Light An ashen heart is mounted ceremoniously upon a bare, brick wall. Above, a Cathode Grey sky, below, barely tended grass. The hands move and the heart bleeds as history plays its lachrymose tune on a harp string of nerves and delirium. Night Light ”Buy you a drink?” Direct look, pretend surprise. Emotions criss-cross neon signs and aluminum furniture. Confessions naught a pressurized comfort zone. Day Light Catharsis begins anew as penance continues in the prosaic cottage. Ghost Light We continue to bloom spent epiphanies in this haunted house whilst stomaching the futility of urban invocation. Acorns are now out o

A cemetery pauses in an autumnal forest wherein the tears of a Thousand cats create dew in the absence of leaves. A small boy of no particular design nor fancy listens to the Click-a-clack of automata configured by clockwork match men. Walls crack as the worm bleeds. Cold. Gene Von Banyard