Carl Sagan’s Nightmare (ROUND 2)

Let's workshop this poem about a Cheeto-finger gamer trafficking in fringe visions of reality, too obsessed with guru status--and too quick to attribute pushback to persecution--for critical thought

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Carl Sagan’s Nightmare

Unfalsifiable in his mind
(despite lacking proofs 
from failsafe axioms),
he knew his woo

that ghosts goose 
cat chakras would never
blaze beyond 
Mom’s cellar of Dew empties: 

“Science shills,” he told
his RPG mic (futon 
kitty-litter fusty), 
“can’t stand us redpills!”

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