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Excerpt from

sawpera



[Out of sync: An anonymized, pitched-down Voice emanates from the actors' cellphones, at odds with harmonizing chipmunk screeches blaring through the PA system:]



YOUR FETISH FOR ITCHES DIVULGES YOU'RE STILL HUMAN––FOR NOW. PYROTECNICS & CYBERPUNK AESTHETICS REMAIN ESCAPE VALVES FROM YOUR HUMANNESS–-THAT ITCH THAT FESTERS, BLEEDS, & OOZES VULVICLY THE MORE YOU SCRATCH IT.


I MADE YOUR GAME A BIBLICAL BURDEN: YOUR TOTAL SUM OF CRIMES AGAINST HEAVEN-ON-EARTH CONVERTED TO A TEST. WE WILL ARBITRATE IT HERE––IN THIS MAKESHIFT OPERATING THEATER, CENTERSTAGE AT THE OPERA––WHERE EVERYONE’S A VICTIM & YOU PLAY EVERY PART.


IN & OF ITSELF THE GAME IS PERFECT: A SELF-FULFILLING PATTERN OR PROPHESY THAT MOLDS YOU, THAT FOLDS YOU INTO ITSELF. THUS, IT RHYMES MICROCOSMICALLY WITH GOD & CAPITAL, THOUGH IT CANNOT SUPPLANT THEM. HOW COULD IT? YOUR REEKING MEAT SUMMONS LARVAE. LOOK TO YOUR LEFT: AGAINST THE BRAIN-SPLATTERED SCRIM, A SILHOUETTE OF YOUR SOUL.


TAKE UP YOUR CROSS, YOUR SCALPEL, & YOUR BONE-DRILL. FORESAKE YOURSELF & FOLLOW ME. WITH FATAL TOOLS YOU WILL DIG & CHISEL A WORKING BRAIN'S WREATH'D TRELLIS––REPLETE WITH BELLS & BUDS OF UNNAMED FLOWERS; NEURAL SHAPES CARESSED BY ICY ZEPHYRS; SHOOTING STARS & IMPLODING PLANETS' INFLATIONARY FLUIDS. TREPANNING ECSTASIES FROM CALVARIA'S AGONIES, YOU WILL BE ANNOINTED


IN SHARP SENSUAL HITS.


THE ONLY JUDGE IS GOD


YOU WILL ONLY FIND HIM HERE


IN HELL. 







Bio: Logan Berry is author of Run-off Sugar Crystal Lake (11:11 Press). He co-edits SELFFUCK︎
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