Your plan is not your trajectory
When first conditions are chaotic
Plenty may still go wrong
In doctrine a closed system

Or else you’d have failed
Incited to tempt in vulnerability
Be imprinted by an outsider
A nascent world-view distortion

But here you are with the ball
Running like a Brundle fly
Fuck your iteration concluding
This tiny black heart can die

It’s carcinogenic crap
Steaming through arteries
Fluid for the biosac
Your precious cornucopia