I am on a train of obscene absurdity.

My life is real-time awareness of the wreckage;

Stuck in the slow-motion collision against the unknown elements.

Everything is great but everything is also terrible.

Ground control to Major Tom,

The circuit is dead, there is something wrong.

Floating in the tin can.

Staring at the ever-flowing blend of the red soils on the abandoned planet.

Seducing these sinners for the repopulation of her dry skin longing for the touch of green.

From the pinkish hue of the dot in the blue sky to the glowing beacon in the black.

You are always there in the back of my mind.

Wondering if it is a curse of just destiny manifestation.

Well, then cowboy. Go at 'em.

Swim in her secret wet underground cave.

Cradling the rejuvenating elixir of life.

Searching for the possibilities of an island.