My Input
The gravity of solar power
constricts our galaxies and twists
them into a pretzel,
where geometry is dominant and space is limitless.
I imagine the only breath
I would feel would be the breath of cosmic division
as supernova's exhale yawns,
reminiscent of a bomb's immature explosion.
What I'm doing yonder away from worlds
is unprecedented. I, a unique being,
born from a callous rock among solitary lights
that flicker like fireflies,
meander in this reality, because
it seems no matter where I go, I'm always in limbo.
I'm living off your silver thaw -
a glacier break that contaminates my body.
My surface, yielding like Orion's armour
as it fractures and flakes under a piercing sting,
avalanches in cold sweats
from the touch of your
frostbitten fingers.
I used to be incandescence itself:
heat escaping my pores like an eclipsing halo of paraffin
that blurs the black atmosphere surrounding me,
and makes the scene of subordinate stars
behind me dance in my sustaining radiance.
