. . . I think I'm being sneaky
then a security asset looms pale before me
my head implodes
I have to start over
the wages of slickness, I suppose
the world demands a certain narrow path of traversal, a certain set of tasks, all in a certain order
to circumvent,
to sequence break,
all that gets you
is a certain and familiar doom
but you can get used to the imploded head routine
it gets into this thing where it's a live joke you can also record and share
like ejecting from your cockpit over and over again in Wing Commander 'til they bust your ass outta the Space Force
failure's the only option
if you would find the walls of this or that world
'cause the walls'll find you in any event
hardwired fuck-up destiny and all that entails
ah, to be so sure and so doomed
docile and omnipotent, or omni-impotent as a noted restroom stall philosopher long wrote down
it's a crisis in the news I hear . . .
looms pale before me . . .
