nothing more angry than naked space. riding the way up alone. touching and waving to no result. the endless knightly quest to full and fill the all with the wanted, the ideal, they say saw won't try, and won't honor once received. it's the airless days of space that make me ask where i get my slice. it's the contempt for rockets, the dissatisfaction with everything i've been told, the most needed journey into the unknown is just to get to cold naked nothing, exit climax. exit building. exit atmosphere. only the set remains. my arms moving and waving and pouring. exeunt. only my set of arms remains in naked space.