Capitalism with bacon bits!

A poem for my moth

I’ve got seven; how many did you get?

Maybe white men are a disease?

Looking for a way out?

This one’s for you.

Some advice on configuring your neural uplink for a glitch-free soul transfer.

What’s that thing revolving vaguely in that big swirling pot of gender?

Let’s talk about privilege and power with nips and Nazis!

Pictures of my winter vacation on Molovempt Alpha.

The Lions wrote their gospel in stone and skin.

A sonnet about my profound lack of coolty with No Man’s Sky’s ocean planets.

No, it doesn’t come from Russia - in Soviet Russia they don’t have pie.

Quantum necromancy, baby.

Yeah, well, the important thing is I amused myself, right?

More poetry from Elie Nine, the insect priestess.

A poem about the things we left at sea.

Starvation Street hardware will eat the competition’s lunch!

One of many sad backstories from Shadowplay.

A sonnet about the people we cast to play our demons.