Thursday, 2 April 2015

NaPoWriMo 2

Sorry I'm late.


Yes, I am the stars
and I burn uncontrollably
for you. Just you.
Countless cataclysmic deaths
and gravitational collapse;
this is the state of things.


I am a constant. Ever bright
and motionless. Hung like
silver fish on hooks. Gasping.
And dammit, won't you build
a hyperdrive, deflector shield,
life support and nav-com please?


Boldly go, long time ago.
Come discover me.






1 comment:

The Chiming of a Perfect Chord

Day Three You can (add9) to an A minor and it peals, like a big, simple agony. I always knew that chord I think, before I held the axe in my...