Forgot to Calculate the exact angle of displacement now mooding over us all. He's still inside counting, degrees and minutes while the orange glow of radiation builds It cant be seen but the flies know, the joints and sockets know/all left hand tools know. He's still inside scatching heels and sleeping, cooking breakfast sausage and eggs in the microwave. Stirring spoons of sugared coffee brown stain smell rising into nose leaving traces of valleys dissected into grids for roads, for fields, territories to fly through slowly on a bicycle listening to crows not speak to you, now surrounding by strange black bugs pointing directions and not staying long enough He's still inside