everything has become the surface of a living
cosmic network
cells breathing over the hulls
wetly like shellac
the concrete matrix
a network of cracks
a man walks by,
his hands glowing
his ground fracturing
the shiny husks gleam whitely
in dusk's eyelid
the lights slipping on them are
pale gold
alien green
laser red
a web of blue stars zips by
and the sky darkens
plastic floor, vat grown heart
curiosity of abstract art
still beating blood that is real
and pulsing through hands that still feel
I feel like a neuromancer
in this cold wash of fluorescence
(the cities below me are thumbprints
and you are nothing but a field of light)
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