Where am I?    Where am I going to?
    Do I really have any control over my
        altitude, speed, vector, constancy, or destination?

Hurtling end-over-end like there’s no tomorrow,
    queue up the in-flight entertainment
        as my ship careens dangerously close
            to the un-doing singularity.

Slack yoke and static-filled comms,
    littered snack wrappers, old Galaxy Mall magazines
        float about my cabin as my
            blanched face is ever lit in the embracing glow of my
                undying diversion.

                    [PLAY NEXT EPISODE]

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