Tick- Tock

In smug perfection
he chucks mental tidbits
in her direction,
but she will not grab them.

He is oblivious.

The white noise of biology,
buzzes steadily in her head,
It is the bleak biographer
screening future events

as the distant past…
And she         is lying cold,
(without good purpose)
in Gaea's heavy grasp.

She used to be smarter.

At present she prefers to find
merit in frivolous chitchat—
images of Alpha babies
blocking her aptitude.

If only he'd abate his brain,
and enjoy sexual pleasure
just long enough to
create another            him.
One who could not      project
                                 as much.