Anomic gloom and arrogant fear Every invisible rumbling is a machine bent on my death. Nothing conveys me to power For I'm left to retroactively question each choice I make As if logic was absent and I wasn't acting by choice But impelled to be insolent By the inner rust and complicated working Of my meat-and-bones practice run For my Faberge machine body (even as I admit this I wrench open a kind of window Into a mostly forgotten dream Of a conference with some kind of Goddess) I'll soon be surprised With a sudden initiation into reality Elfin mischief and hysterical laughter spiraling around me in a climactic fireworks display "This is really happening. This is what it was all about. This is what it's all been leading towards. This is where there's no turning back" it laughs in my face as the agony of endless ****** nearly knocks me senseless and motionless There are souls caught up in the works and the kingdom of heaven is in disarray as we sort out our identity crisis of species here on profane planet earth. Gaia holds her breath and hopes we do not leave too big a mark when we explode ourselves.