Walking in place,
each step, an embrace:
my toes, to the floor,
then heel; once more.
Not forward nor back,
extension, contract:
changing position,
persistent, the stiction.
The weight of the floor,
a shiftable platform
below me, it mocks;
consistent, the clock.
Keeping time, keeping beat,
never complete.
Inside me, the race,
quicker than pace.
Inside me, the surge,
more to discourage:
pumping, through, and again
like steps, now and then.
Forward, though same,
it is here i remain.

Treasure is but a wanderer's lust
seeking utopia amongst the cosmic stars
it's year 2025, humanity's golden age of technology,
and a little white spaceship sets off to colonise Mars

nicknamed Nova 2, she boasts twin light-speed thrusters
polarised windscreens and a body of pure ceramite -
with a whoosh and a deafening bang
she smashes the sound barrier and streaks through the night

[#WHAM! BAM! FLASH!#]

at twenty-two hours they pass the moon
avoid a cluster of meteorite and space debris,
venturing deeper and deeper into the abyss of nothingness
their minds awestruck, their weary souls free

faced with a darkness that was un-shiftable, heavy
the danger of this mission increasingly daunting,
the longer they ignored their fears
the more the alien wilderness became haunting

what if they suddenly stopped dead
hit a snag or ran out of power?
They only had limited supplies
and the absent sun grew hotter and hotter by the hour

with the silence incessant
the sound of their own voices was obtrusive, grating,
food disgustingly vile, water going warm,
pressure steadily rising, there were concerns of the pilot fainting

--// "CALLING ELISA STARR TO THE CABIN PLEASE." //--

Elisa Starr was the cabin's dutiful cleaner
she'd clear away the astronauts *******, and occasionally mop up their sick -
for most of the crew had adapted to the lack of gravity
alas a few individuals hadn't been as quick

only 3 months in and the air had already grown stale
smelling of faint excretion and sweat,
aching and tired, she was always wiping down the interior windows
as the condensation steamed them up wet

what was the point in coming to space to slave away
when she could just do it on Earth;
once a valued member of society, a highly respectable mother of three,
surely this gruelling slavery she didn't deserve?

-//-----//-

The glowing red sphere of Mars approaches,
their destination finally (finally!) in range -
Earth was dying and this is a chance for us to start again

but isn't it already clear that we'll never change?