Season 1, Episode 3

sore eros

ugg rita— agric rose

hella hot

a scratch, a scribble

a text mining tweed—

toss the mucky pheasant,

sometimes it makes sense...

happy genius

in jack wills

flying off the handle

reeking of nihilistic melancholy,

hops and snapdragons,

throwback a cup of anxiety!

daring technological bluff

fizzle, flashpoint,

all the beautiful faces

without fatherland or home

living on solar power,

they must keep the baggage light.

trigger touchstone

rednoise,

who said, what computational artifact

is this flashing amber?

tell us, how does that work?

the law, the science,

permuted parataxis,

the series early on

when the writing is still good.

monks stopped meditating

three flowers— a treasure trove

of dead philosophers, the bot

of conviction,

they all seem to be tweeting,

concrete again.

wait... for game engine,

a godot come lately

acrid RiTa—

frozen rose, smoking cigar,

deadly assistant agric eros—

tell us, who hit the kill switch?