hunched, spinal crook, throbbing at moments, docile at others. typing challenge when the very atoms show increased laziness to maintain consciousness, let alone manage logical transactions and transcriptions. hard smooth granite props up the weight of my sagging uppers, arms and shoulders putting heat to the spine so it keeps my skull from sliding down onto the plastic keyboard, a dull smack with alphanumeric dents left in my cheek and forehead. all i hear are tribal drums, the steel hammering of subway trains over worn shiny metal tracks, a voice echoes, a woman with a foreign tongue, reflected through the terminal, cold aquatic robotic, even. recorded line controller. directing the steel eels running the tracks through the hive of concrete, steel warrens a thousand feet high seared with the hypersaw buzzing of monstrous cicadas, giant beetles and fell craven insects, a messy web of streets and lines hastily gathered over burnt wood and broken feudalism, through great fire and the greatest of all fires, an earthly sun that made the windows shine like heaven before shatterring, before god fell to earth clutching a gun. then a second of shiva’s world destroyers dropped and revealed itself to the city before the sun itself finally fell in shock, tears running from its old weary eyes. you cannot hide in sunlight. a feral sense like getting slapped with an eel two days past your last meal, even chocolate bees can’t turn me on because the world is round, love is red love is blue, she is water, he is fire, prophets of armagideon, manipulators, persuaders, war pigs for profit, energy barons grabbing lands, wall st gambling sucks up profits, we eat the losses. it’s all too much and caribou barbie will take us away and install her racist cadre of warrior hockey dads dressed in bad flannels and moose furs. pause. breathe. blue sky above alaska round midnight, wolves release high yelps along the hillside across from the icy river running down to sea. the hunt is on. there’s oil in that ice deep down coring to the earth to draw out the deepest blood, the thickest plasmids. love is all love is you. the wind is high setting the trees dancing. that refinery flash from the venting tower at night caught in the thermals thrown off by the combustions below. up rise the demons. marching off to war. this hive will buzz tonight. we will fight the icy river, those oily fires. can’t you see? demons standing tall and dark, hands and faces smeared in crude, black and smoky balrogs stalking the deserts of antiquity, walking through the cradle, spewing fire and ash across history itself. the tigris, euphrates, mesopotamia. oh you rivers oh you waters run. come bear witness to the Whore of Babylon! if i had my way i’d tear the building down. demon days i say. the hive is buzzing. a message is coming. keep your ear down to the ground. we’re sending probes to the sun, inspecting the heliosphere, talking to sunspots, bathing in that sweet sweet solar wind. dig. thats how we roll. our kind goes to the source. we speak with the stars. we break up through the gravity well with giant explosives strapped to our backs, sneering at the world below, rocket to the moon, got my glock and ipod for the jagged trip up through strato and out to geosynch with L5. they been expecting us and we are ready. got a big-ass knife and a dripping spliff. razors down my forearms and silica gel lifting my floats. zero g muthafucker. its just a myriad of stars. Which one will it be? just a myriad of fucking stars. like little glowing amber orbs, summer lightbugs alit in the heavens, floating buzzing gathering a thousand chocolate bees pouring so slow and ambered in constellatory arcs trailing dusted pollen across the very firmament. cover me. in my sleep. darling please.