I'm Galactic Prime, number-ornate
Dust-woven thermodynamicism incarnate
Bathed in radiation and ways to be haunted
I see the nest of the hornet and wonder what God meant

Words come out of my brain pre-ordained
A matrix of matter combining matters, rain feels phatter
And fattens the lessons that implode anyway
As each new day I am forced to realign my ideals
With the actual, factual mess of this consciousness

Energy spires into wells
Conspires into cells
Feels its way through the dark
Until the parts of it that survive
The cannon-fodding of its own hapless nodding
Manage to thrive

It’s doing all of this to itself
And the crumbs it left when it knew it would forget
Have molded into dust