I don’t know what it is
this starvation
for the galactic
that lives behind my eyelids.
The sighs of the universe
are taking me down with it.
Every breath a heavy
exhale that resonates into waves
of dust and what we are all made of.
I sipped up the content
like a needle would a spoon.
And let it all wash over me.
How small, how
minute my consciousness
when compared
with the breath of the world.
A world without direction,
just a lack of gravity
so sweet
you will fall to weep.
I cannot keep this feeling,
not even enslave it against paper
for it is transient
and eternal
it must travel
between mortals
to survive
and allow us despair
when we’ve outworn
our invitation.


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