grasp grasp clutch; microscopic hands

all fitted with claws by the millions,

and a malignancy only discovered

in matters and things smaller than

a nanometer


a malintention of no objective.

too tiny for a goal of function; sans purpose but

eat eat survive survive and

munch munch the life juice out.

a process mechania, only seen

in ebola and computer viruses.


it is not miserable it is not happy

it does not get off on its work.

it does not get off.


alien and cold,

it is not cruel it is not evil

but simply is in its existence


a reasonably unnecessary sore

an evolutionary fluke

the zit on the backside of mommy Nature.

all those tiny nails

imperceptibly scratching away

at the organic blood-brain barrier.


it is worse than Heroin.

Heroin topples the barrier like

The Mongolian Army.

this is a trojan horse

(if the trojan horse

was inconceivably

small with no






just a hollow


structure which



one cannot blame




for anything.


you cannot ascribe it the role

of the devil, or the role of

the bloodthirsty beast.

you cannot call it a terrorist

and declare war.

it sits inactive and innocent

of its own guilt and

your impending demise

with no sci-fi baritone


"Resistance is Futile."