Posthuman Blues

Homeostatic circadian blur
lofty naked dreams bleeding on cold gravel
cracks in the aquaria reveal concrete stars
and trajectories traced in fissured celluloid
Chattering hemispheres, memories of light
seen through a peptide veil
breathing the air of new centuries through
brittle plastic lips and fixated eyes

"I was central
I had control
I lost my head
I need this."

--R.E.M., "Country Feedback"