Puncture

I hunger and thirst;
When I came sliding out of the Woman,
The doctor acknowledged coldly
How the shape of my cranium
Sang prophetically of the suffering and
Joy needed to become an incarnation of the
Nothingness indulged in the
Prolific existence of Man.

 

I juxtapose myself,

Staring into the solar wind,

Dreaming of penetrating the

Nearest star in all her coquettish sexuality;

As an entity, this Thing,

I'm yearning, breathing, being.


I explode like a rocket in

Gyrating, supersonic venture, enterprise,
Orbiting the planet,
Hitting the faultline,
Riding the seam in a straight line,
Then suddenly puncturing the

Skin of the atmosphere.

 

Out, out farther at an ever accelerating speed

Through the frozen, pitch-black

Reaches of the partial vacuum;
The void traversing in search of

New experience, insight always.

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