Grinning Parasite and the host,
clasp the Glass, command a toast.
While the multiverse dangles Our string…
joyous mutilations continue the Spring.
Bounded; so we head for the Coast,
In full pursuit of John Titor's ghost.
Mere fiber-optic ruminations and worse,
Salient failures, but still hunters for the Source.
And so the Fighting endures for the crumbs,
Ballparks, oligarchs, brownstones and slums.
Open spaces blanketed by spectacle & infanticide -
crafted by the Hand, quantitated & calcified.
When the time is nigh to ride & cannot wait,
And barbarians are lining up at the gate.
Just remember we're going full throttle,
on the Everett-Wheeler Model.