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The Shuddering Breath I Became

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   The Shuddering Breath I Became The cryo unit hisses open, and I remember my name: JB, pilot of the *Subi*. The med-techs call it “revitalisation.” My body hums with a new, raw power. Muscles knit with synthetic fibres, bones laced with carbon-filament. I feel incredible. Invincible. But in the polished chrome of the med-bay wall, my reflection is a stranger. The eyes are mine, but they glow with a faint, amber diagnostic light. The scar from the asteroid scrape is gone, replaced by skin too perfect, too seamless. They say they rebuilt me better. Stronger. To survive the long dark. But when I clench my fist, I hear a servo-whine they insist isn’t there. When I calculate a jump vector, the numbers resolve instantly in my mind, not on a screen. Is this their design? A monster of efficiency, crafted for a purpose I didn’t choose? Or is the monster the part of me that wanted this? The part that, bleeding out in my crippled cockpit, whispered *yes* to any salvation? Did I consent...
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The Inception of Capital

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A Colonialist Storm.
Over and Over Again.

Start.
With void.
Then add inception of capital.





A Colonialist Storm. 
Over and Over Again. 

Capitalize on this.
Void.
The backbone is irony.
Of superior culture.


A Colonialist Storm. 
Over and Over Again. 

Decades of. 
Credit has dried up.
Constituted mania.
Reforms, Rescues and Stagnation.
The abyss stares back.


A Colonialist Storm.
Over and Over Again. 

Big money is on the line. 
Credit has dried up.
Countless campaigns and speeches.
Deprived.
Is that true?
The abyss stares back.



A Colonialist Storm.
Over and Over Again. 

Motivation, objectives and requirements. 
A finite game of enlightenment.
Countless campaigns and speeches.
Engaging the unique qualities of the deprived.
Making an economic use of the poor. 
Investing in the development of commodity culture. 
The abyss stares back.



A Colonialist Storm.
Over and Over Again. 

On Entry
We presumed our safety within known boundaries.
We are in agreeance to temporary oppression.
We allow the performance to be believable.
We expect there is an acceptable conclusion.
We know how to act.
We know what to say.

On Exit
The violence experienced is the attraction. 
To enact aggressive-like behaviors.
A theatre of infinite inception.
We stare into the abyss for the abyss to stare back.



A Colonialist Storm.
Over and Over Again. 

An acceptance for surveillance.
Prepared against surprise.
Fixed to an unchanged identity.
Our leaders are dedicated to profit.

To provide distraction.
To deliver misinformation.
To create deception.
To resist mass transformation.

Their achievements are cast in bronze.
Their manifestations are inherited.

The darkened end has been written


Poetry and soundscape





A Colonialist Storm.
Over and Over Again. 

The darkened end a future foretold.
The one who wins to be powerful.
The play was completed from the start.
The outcome was known.
The monuments in place.
The titles in place.
The anglosphere in place.



The Abyss Stares Back Video



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