Posthuman Blues

Oy. I'm feeling bleak and redundant, like an obsolete appendage. A somatic case of the posthuman blues, I guess. I need a better day-job. I need more energy. I need some critical level of warmth, contact. I'm awakening to the fact that I'm confined to an orbit, rooted in spacetime as certainly as a planet forever circling some dim star.





Burning up like space junk plunging into the atmosphere, pale fire of reentry reflected on a vertical sea of windows; untold acres of glass and chrome.

This trajectory is taking me precisely nowhere. I take a deep breath and the vacuum scorches my lungs.