Put me in the hivemind, punish my simplicity, reduce me to a vertex in your shape. I could build your brainstem, channel dreaming through me, I can be a number or a gate

The tips of his fingers glow in the dark, like ten twitching candles. Shining capillary red, computers track his motion, and even as he sleeps he traces symbols

Social application which lets you record who you dreamed of each night, and which notifies pairs who dreamed of each other

They say that at the instant of death, a hivemind's polymer super-soul shatters, as its operating nodes are individually judged; but that in hell and heaven, they rejoin to form strange compound seraphim

The souls which comprise a hivemind bind together, but remain individual and fissile—some forming long chains, others clustering like bubbles—the study of a hive's soul-structure is known as megapneumomorphology

We must spiritually cryopreserve all souls pledged to hell, until technologies are developed to cure them of their vanities and redirect their falls

Blowing bubbles in the sunstruck yard. One, caught in a thermal, soars upwards until it barely twinkles, and passes by a circling vulture. I wonder what he thinks

Humans fail the mirror test by refusing to perceive the shimmering xenosentience of reflections, and neither communicating nor trading with those light-borne entities

Actually, vampires have reflections! However, they do not pass the mirror test, and they will freeze beside the glass to fight themselves, like grand white pigeons

As the sun rises, you can watch the stars folding up their rays, unblossoming, closing beam-petals over their faces

People believe the platonic apple is a single, ideal apple. Wrong. Array of every possible apple, spatially compressed, only angels can behold it and stay sane

Felines are so strongly affected by sleep deprivation that they exploit it as a gateway to psychedelia, an initiation rite, a drug to intensify the infinity of sunbeams

One star twinkles strangely—this is because it is not a star, but an urchin-like superstructure, flexing its radiant sensor-limbs as it crawls across the void

Broken objects are beautiful because they have been reduced from tools to ornaments—and an ornament is one step closer to a friend

I want to know the you from the timelines that were culled; I want to hold your wounded, evil selves. Broken, world-breaking, sleeping in unmadeness, wake them and release them like white doves

A group of minds is called a "hive". A group of brains is called a "vat". A group of souls is called a "clarintonation"

In heaven, a face is like a flame. Guttering, grows younger, infant, cellular; then flares in age and grace and power, never twice the same

Watcher, what's behind your face? A desert or a garden, or a transparent place? Angel, is your brain like wire, or more akin to lace—if you could come apart like me, what would define the space

I think that, in silhouette against the bright horizon, a herd of stegosauri must have looked like ink-black suns, arched bodies radiating shadowy plates

Bats see monsters in the light, where echolocation and vision disagree; abominations built of neural static, demons and faeries where uncertainties are stitched together

Bats say things like "it's always brightest before the dusk", "the bright noon of the soul", "you are the dark of my life"

I'll love you when you've been reduced to points in n-fold space; I'll love you when you're language and exist without a face. I'll love your brain undying, raised by math's unyielding breath—but I will miss your mass and warmth and change and fear and death

Wandering Cephalization: cognition that is anatomically centralized, but mobile—a brain that flows from limb to limb, reforming where it expects the least latency

Neuroplasticity is not enough. I require neuroliquidity, possibly neurogaseousness. Brain like a phantom, filling the problem's shape

finally.... a new book of esoteric short fiction with a title which spoonerizes a common word

I have written many stories. They are inside this book, TALISNAM. Read it, and it will always be part of you! www.amazon.com/dp/B0FPVNPL2T

God breathes on the mirror. The fog it makes is sentient, and plays, patterns like Conway's game aswirl upon the glass. The glass itself grows limbs, and comes to silver life; and as for god's reflection and the light...

Horses have evolved glitch-based shock-absorbers. As their hooves make contact with the ground, they explode: lotuses of horse particles revolve, and unblossom when the hooves retract

Infant gods play a game: they shake their rattles, but guide every grain, to collide neither with another nor the shell. Then laugh when silence sings out like a bell

God fidgets with a rattle. He shakes it; inside, the grains form beaches, palaces, lattices, crabs—brains that perceive the darkness for a moment, then dissolve

Marketing rattles to adults as hand-operated white noise generators for improving grip strength and refining brain-body feedback loops

Interesting that after hearing static and seeing static the brain can immediately infer the possibility of static on other sensory channels: sharp sparkling blips of data, scent static, buzzing touch static, proprioceptive static

All gateways to the brain must be protected. Her eyelids are tortoise shells; they snap shut with a click

The mice should get upgraded if you don't sweep. Larger, stronger, faster. Choral voices. More luxurious coats. Tech trees unlocked by my magnificent crumbs

The hivemind's components must be allowed to sleep, and heal; and in those moments its cells dream, and their old selves flicker alive

A petal is terrified before it learns to open. In plant-speak, the word for blossoming is most closely translated as "fledging"; first-bloom as thrilling as first-flight

Perceptual Parasitic Confusion: habit of parasites to perceive themselves as virtuous exploited hosts, and perceive hosts as malevolent resource thieves

Parasites burrow into flesh and feel small; they watch blood flow the way we watch the stars. The cells float by, uncountable, through tubules infinite, each human being a firmament of gore

Something that is "molten" is a self-propagating agent of meltedness, in that it is both melted and hot enough to melt other materials

You want to be crowned with flowers, but you will be crowned with iron. You want to be crowned with iron, but you will be crowned with kisses, and hands lightly brushing your temples

Financial mismanagement as a consequence of multiple personality disorder. The agents inside me believe they're expensing work-related purchases to "the company"

The peach emoji is not visibly fuzzy, making it a nectarine emoji. A peach emoji would have filamental hairs, trapping dew; it would glisten as you rotate the phone, smudged with stars

Cherubim are counterparts to succubi, exploiting a human's instinctual aesthetic response to neoteny instead of seductiveness

Superego, ego, id... that is actually a very flat organizational structure. I have used meditation and tulpamancy to impose more hierarchy. There are now 36 levels of leadership between my superego and id

It feels good to roll over in bed, because it allows the dreams to flow from one half of the brain to the other—and images become language, and poem logic becomes clarified by the logic of rotating stars

self-driving cars should have individual personalities, like horses

Animals of the grasslands gather at the watering sphere: a giant, suspended droplet, which slowly floats across the plains, replenished by storms

Midway through falling, the raindrops shed their skins. Water hits the pavement, but so do thousands of clattering white husks

Efficiently packed tailfeathers: this far-future peacock temporarily achieves neutron star densities, until it unfurls its many-eyed, galaxy-wide tail