Daily 15 #1

I’ve been uninspired and obviously kinda lost and angry. 

 3:12am. She had finally slept past 3, but there was no rest. First thing, her stomach would roil and she would begin the day.  The first few dark hours preparing to be human. Gathering intel, greasing joints and imbibing the daily oils and minerals. She would take off her head and plug the top of her spine into a thermonuclear reactor to jumpstart her organs and lungs and pour motor oil down her esophagus to make it easier to swallow the glass and shrapnel that would be fed to her throughout the day. After this, she would plug into the Great Machine and absorb news and entertainment that would occasionally flicker with a moment of storytelling that would reach her art receptors, but mostly the receptors waited and watched while algorithms flew by and monetized themselves. On occasion she would wonder what it all meant, but then she would just load her giant guns and leave the house.

                                                    “Desoto Rising” by Greg Brotherton