The threat is in the waiting.
the pause, in rooms
soft music in a sealed space,
thoughts bouncing around the walls
with memories tripping dancing between books and under desks and beds.
I'm in love with this space:
height and identity.
Waiting music walls.

But still a threat.

"Steric hindrance theory: too many barriers
prevents reaction, connection; only with the
surrender of barriers can exchange
be made, can electricity be produced."
I'm frightened, there's so much that I wouldn't
want anyone to see, and so many ways
and people to see it, I can't avoid the population
forever. I'm in a clumsy diametric headspace
where genetics and biochemicals are running
freefall headlong skyhigh seadeep
against alongside in perfect opposition
asunder to my throbbing brain.
(我要阿拉伯爱人)
and a steampunk laboratory
and a hill in Iceland
and a planetarium
on a skyscraper
in Hong Kong in 2080.
(and to have conquered (my fears of) the human race.)

The threat is still there.