The man,
a blank stamped out by machines in Japan,
modified
rectified
passed as suitable for use.

Empty then topped up with interactions 'til blocked up,
plug pulled.

Re-issued
replaced
wires encased in
vanadium.

Faces in the auditorium,
murmurings in the gallery,
a star explodes in a distant galaxy
I know how it feels.

Every random seed feeds leads leading into the core
and the core is what blanks and men are made for.