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Getting up

He recites the tenets of Surak

While imagining each phrase hardening into words

As scorching wax is dripped across a hairless chest…


Taking a shower

He calculates the number PI to 10,000 digits

While imagining them branded into straining muscles

Held captive by white rope…


Putting on his uniform

He contemplates the properties of Magnetohydrodynamcis

While imagining a strip of black velvet stretched tight across terrified eyes

Clenched fists helplessly clutching the blanket, twisting it into a double helix…


Walking down the hall

He considers the Lane-Emden equation and force-free magnetic fields

While imagining teeth marks on inflamed nipples

Clamped together by gleaming chain…


Riding the lift

He reflects on the possibility of Nanotechnology and manipulation of matter at the molecular level

While imagining fingers pressed against perspiration-slick temples

As trembling knees are forced apart…


Entering the bridge

He ponders Fresnel Diffraction and Circular Aperture

While imagining thrusting harshly into a virginal orifice

With a fervor close to madness…



Sitting at his station

He meditates about Radiative Transfer and Flux Density

While imagining the poetry in semen stained sheets

And the beauty of Rorschach-shaped bruises that last…


Standing by his captain’s chair

He deliberates on the theory of Semilatus Rectum and Specific Angular Momentum

While imagining the chess game he will play with James T. Kirk tonight

Alone in his soundproof quarters…


Glancing up at his first officer

Kirk wonders if Spock is actually smiling…or is it just his imagination?




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