From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
[Hard to believe that the “Biden Military Machine” will be able to recruit anybody within one hundred light-years this brave. The Animatronic Biden Puppet Masters seem to be looking to enlist ten divisions of America’s pre-op transexuals and other ready-made cowards. Now that might be a way of turning America’s sexually confused into cannon fodder, but my money’s on new boy war brides for the resurgent Taliban and Isis warriors.]