"The designers of this simulation are just phoning it in."
“Wherefore all joyless shalt thou strike the lyre,
Trilling vain chords and bootless melodies…”
—Royston’s Lycophron
When vampires started drinking their own blood.
tilth so HARSH
wheatfield at dawn’s AROMA
cheerful harrying canine ROBOT
fruit fly i just SMOTE
tired of the litany of wrongly-aimed HATES
in-group & out-group hard WIRED
hide behind IMAGE
on the barbed-wire caterwauling RANGE
on was EGGED
by the shadow of mere unforgotten DEEDS
in the dunce niche BRASH
schoolbook-depository RIFLE
raffle madrigal AFFIX
made of glistening drive-in movie screen SLIME
triumph HEXED
Somehow endangered genres is not high up on my list of concerns these days.
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