Glorieta Insurgentes, Mexico City. Hoy en día. Tropically-tinged neo-goths customized like hearses that just left the set of Pimp My Ride — products as posture, status über alles. A bull market on young flesh and the transnational bodysnatchers are all in, buying futures at mere pesos and don’t the kids just love it. There’s no other direction but expiration. OMG youth is so hot right now. Forever 21? Not a chance, you’re already over the Hill Street Blues and you don’t even get that reference. But young flesh looks so good. To be moist again. Even the youth are buying youth. Why wait for estrogen when you’ve got parabens? They’re just hormoaning your name.
You don’t feel like yourself today. And you aren’t you. You’re the new you. You’ve been permanently modified. You rewrote your code, changed your program. You’re junkspace now. And I love what you do, don’t you know that you’re toxic?
Abstract biopharmaceutical humanoids buying organic produce for half inorganic bodies. Fluorescent alien dildos penetrating thick, hard, acrylic silhouettes. Manga contact lenses, silicon orthopedics, human hair and fantasy-color artificial extensions cast in resin prosthetic molds. Thermoformed Gutai scanner paintings of eukaryotic cells spreading their wet organelles all over fat brushstrokes of concha de nácar, snake and insect essences (and other cosmetic technologies).
Bi-white, self-tan, shine bright like a blood diamond.