Laughter Echo Aboard the Calburnk

"Bwa HaHa!"  The echos bounce
against portholes and the doors.

Vacuum outside and rations in,
click clank, our boots on floors again.

Inside the real world our rations do
exactly as they're told.

Clockwork precision is never a given
especially when there may be a grassy knoll.

Hit the highs and hit the lows,
and always take the thirteenth door.

Get the bottom or get to the top,
business always boils down to more.

Skirt it or orbit, clothed or war fit;
visit and crack teeth on the core.

Garbage.

Dry heave.

Gain your bearing.

Erect nipples.   Chewed fingernails.

I am worried
I'll hear about your funeral
in a comment somewhere and
hate your family
for the rest of time.