I Can Feel the Drilling
by Drew Morse

Papiot and I are on the lam,
Forced to flee L3 by a newsflash:
'Missionaria 9 to Pluto.'

You see, Pankosmos coda upholds
Post-Keplerian beliefs blaming
Nature's pattern-prone Ur-Structures
For cultural ideologies;
Since the moon-planet relationship
Contradicts outlawed social systems
Of hierarchical coexistence,
'All Helian moons must be destroyed.'

Yes, we let the first fifty-four go—
To precise atomic moholing—
Before immolating our workspaces,
Urinating wildly on mainframes,
And rushing here to see the last moon,
Charon — tiny, cold, lonely Charon.

But now, angry Illuminati
Galactica have us holed inside
A dark and rancid synthflesh commune—
one the wrong side of this icy world!
We'll not weep in Charon's last glimmer.

I can feel the drilling in my head...