Simulacra Sanctum.

What does it mean to be human within an organic-techno-digital world? The passive torso gazing upon the sharp arrow – forever travelling fast into the void, what lies within? A cry for a body once required - an avatar of what has gone before, across the crimson red the contrapposto - an assembly line of anguish - the struggle of the flesh, above these bodies observers as they whisper into the void;

Simulacra Sanctum. Enter thy keep, I'm a copy, Thy flesh be plunder, Like blood trifles up serrated tongue, Give into the mechanism, Grinding your life, Tasting your flesh,