//VEGAS OF THE SOUL
By Keith Niles


The heiroglyphs of talent are everywhere, decipher them at your
peril, their pyramids dot this desert scape, you can enter nearly at
will, what will you learn?

The hieroglyphs of the millennium are etched in the cranium of
the computer, easily erased by an errant operator. The orifices of
the insidious are dank and cavernous; the lechers inside are
bearded, blind and resentful.

The hieroglyphs of talent are etched on the walls of the cranium,
the brain pulses with uranium, itís all impossible, inane.

The pyramids dot the desert, the muscles of the oppressed are
impeccable, tan and indolent, they slave, they rock.

Every second the system shuts down, every second the system
reboots, every molecule playing roulette, the Vegas of the soul,
arid and infinite, neon impossibility of chance, attention span
zero, attention span nilÖ.


keith niles is a hermit whose natural habitat is a dank 1 bedroom in los feliz,
california. he subsists on sunflower seeds, modellos with limes, and an odd unending
optimism.






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