Carnage fetish

We share our body parts, duh. I hate the gendering happening in the phrase “I  

love the destroyed wreckage of mankind.” We’re such babies to compare the

universe to our bodies. I wish it was night over the ocean. So I could see the

_______________________ reflected in the Pacific Garbage Patch. I wish

           (celestial body)

the sun wasn’t so __________ing  violent. Beat my ________________.

                                       (swear)                                                       (body part)

 Trash piles remind me I’m alive, part of something. Oh yeah. Here’s what the

legions of our piled bodies have manifested: Empty bottles. Blood stains.

Unrecycled recyclable paper. Diapers. Post-rocket launcher video game fire.

You’re left shuffling mangled. When I did dishes, the hot water made the cheese

become an angel. I identify more with the sleeker, miniature 

___________________ than the traditional ____________________. 

    (noun, form of doom)                                                 (torture device) 

Oh! I recognize humanity in the  streamlining.  Got so worked up

explaining this that I had to go home and _____________________.

                                                                                          (something)

I’ll keep this to myself.