This is What I Do

lag bolted to reality
my muse writhed winter musty
shackled in rusty underpinnings
I croak sheet-rolled thunder
sweat drips in four flimsy dimensions
hissing spitting sparks

I am slick skull wired
via networked neurons
to this haunted heuristic hell

and float in the ether,
stapled to stars;
slide slowly over the edge
to cockroach crept darkness
where God's spinnings softly gleam

tactile feedback enhanced,
to feel light's edge on shadow skin,
I would surely softly sigh
had I an operative oral transducer
not lost to evolutionary misfortune
-- a tactical technological malfunction

vacuum insists on sturdy silence,
- conserved dark matter -
embraced by starlight;
nebulous gas clouds whisper
among the ravaged reefs,
washing wreckage onward

wired, sheep shanked and soldered,
corroded circuit multi-band connected
listening on a thousand crackling channels;
blinded brilliantly in the 300 nm UV band
transistor tearless tortured eyes
scan heaven for Salyut salvation

downside, birds bounce buoyantly,
feathered fools in atmospheric innocence
unpinned from the collective fabric;
physics ignorant Icaria
burning in re-entry

lag bolted to reality
perceptions pinned, pegged and perforated
categorised via choked cell regurgitation,
each myriad microscopic chemical current
illuminates environs one atto-amp at a time

I'm on a two-step wired Space/Time path
danced in Shaman shoes on slippery stones

inertia at my back
atomic mass in each pocket
a severed lifeline to "When"
and ... I'm never going back

wave at the next falling star
it might be me...