What oft do you find here in my ruin?
Why do you return?
Do you know your eyes are glass to peer through?
You leave your book of lies outside the door
Open pages torn
I suspect the leaves are growing disdain
I feel the same
You know there is love beyond these doors where none can enter
Yet you crawl in
With flowers in your arm
I’ve replaced the door with claw marks
Or a protection code?
And you’re the reason I’m still alive
They call it will
Biology bleeding out of me
We’re spinning 2000 light-years closer to the center of a black hole
Apophis has been here before
And will again
And once again
The end isn’t happening overnight
But in long, slow riddles under midnight
I don’t want the worst getting the best shelter
And I’m a mole for disaster
The fucking end is what I’m after
I’m not a robot and I need to dysfunction
Just like a black hole and a star in conjunction
© Delia Ross. 2021 / @poeeternal
FYI: I only need your arms.
But, if contact is impossible because we live in different dimensions or realities, or because we don’t live in the here and now, could you just put me out of my misery?
Like a lame horse?
Because I literally don’t want to live for anything or anyone other than you.
(But don’t let Jupiter or the tacos know) 👀