Voiced Velar Bloodbath

I was on my final teleport.
Oh, the pain of it.
My particles co-mingled with the grit of existence.
I was getting too old for the grit of existence.
I was getting sad.
Memories that had defined a day and a time had begun to feel like thin little ponds of bright red, meaty blood.
The sadness was overwhelming, the sleepiness.
This was feeling like a long piece of travel.
My atoms and filth were sweating.

She beckoned me into the capsule with long bony fingers and a body swollen with hunger.
She was a mutated harbinger.
I was stroking her brittle thigh.

She reached to me with paper cups of everlasting of all kinds.
Her flagship pierced into my spine.
Weeping tears of blood, rosewater, and orange rinds.
Rot of bursting cells, bursting from a lust for the chemical, the alchemical, and the binding stockings of our execution ritual.
I did not want to die, but the arousal was leading me into strange, almost Pharaonic heights.

Bulbs exploded and she was gone.
Another night sucked dry and left to suffer in the maps of an endless circuitry.