highly illogical

what does space smell like? metallic
or clean? burnt. i am a decaying
star. getting sucked
into a black hole, scratching at any
thing i can to hold back. my mind spirals
off its axis and it takes an
entire goddamned mission control
chain-smoking room to get on with it.

the only things keeping me going are pounding the pavement and
your mercy. some days
it subtly creeps in; all i want is
to go limp and relinquish to the
vacuum, but i resist. the edges of
my vision blur, the suffocating silence
holds me in its infinite arms. then
the pop of gravity on my back,
one foot in front of
the other. grounded for the foreseeable.

i want so badly to
float away and finally rest, but i’ll
stay here instead.
rest is for quitters.

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