The screenal tongue floats freely from its pillars. A sliding surrealistic appendage.
The eye spasms before the virtual tongue, blinding the dominant need for appropriation. What remains after the system digests everything? A nomadic tongue riding the waves of its digital secretions. A post-biological cannibalism that reborders the body. What remains?
The tongue no longer occupies one place.
The nipple is the matrix of a lost cause, a nostalgia of a network plurality in which one is too few and two is only one possibility. What remains? As screenal tongues cleave and suck the pacifier of unreal ideologies and unreal referents, the cancer of the techno-democracy reveals itself. The nipples mandate the electronic passion of diachronic doubles that blur desire and labor.
Cyber saliva slides in little jerks, punctuating farts and knuckle cracks.
The spasm of digital bytes legitimizes the violence of information. Both the left and the right hand are driven by the ritual of representation and sacrifice before the keyboard of dromographic speed. What remains? Hyper-real hands, sociologically unconscious desiring machines, always already possessed. What remains?
The sex speaks of a language based on lubricants, a different kind of saliva.