Leaving the Earth in the Year 2003
At the end of this I remember a dream--scrawled on an ancient device--a hope I battered and hammered into non-existence at the age of seventeen. It has waited so long, at this desk or another, in that closet, cubicle, four-walled staging area; hoping my name would be taken off the rooster, my curriculum suspended.
I see that I thought I found the ebb and flow. There is a circle with a hole in the middle, a samsara of forlorn hope; a suffering of rooted desire, cherishing these blue skies and lush greens; dodging the derisively obvious. Had I stepped up the programme, worked harder, submitted earlier, I would likely still be strapped to this technological behemoth
this kiloton monster
waiting for another countdown