Standing on the edge of this forgotten galaxy,
we are guarding a life,
an innocent future
that we sent behind bars
to live on water and bread,
then we guard it with all powers
something that we didn’t let to live
that is already
in a place that has no escape,
but we are still guarding –
we don’t mind to look at it,
it would make us cry,
but we are the guards
who need to bear
of a life.
When the mirror becomes
a window of you
when the sky becomes
when I cannot feel
but what you do
The stars are silent
in billion years of resilience
they are speaking
while our super massive black hole’s appealing
and so does its brother
my data remains
so why should I bother
I am the universe
and we know each other.
Limbic system overloads.
Memory is full.
Blocked from further access.
Being a spiral of humans.
Limbo painted grey realities.
Merging with the void.
Bored of facing this alone.
Floating silhouettes in the darkness of the space;
history formed us through eras
from simple solid objects with fix dynamics
into an unknown, hideous mass.
We share the shape that’s not our shape,
only the abstract play of our past;
how and what lightbeam we hide away,
push away and blend is mistery.
We share a space that’s not our space,
what we lived surpasses all;
then, when we collide we create a new,
another place never seen.
We share an age that’s not our age,
our past is mere illusion,
faintly reflecting on the present
that is already unknown.
Floating mysterious mass of data,
we are nothingness- and infinity-close
big noisy-silent mess of backholes.
Every species developed their means
to perceive the surrounding
as well, every individual has its own design;
the birds crossing the sea,
the fish below where we can’t see,
the bugs dancing in ultraviolet.
So did I inherit and developed mine
of sensing this magnitude
to end my own design;
the trucks, the train, the cars,
the cigs, the drugs, the scars,
the heights’ and depths’ draw.
It’s ceaselessly pulling me hard,
sometimes I’m running
sometimes I accept this design;
pulling against, pushing for it,
crying – numbing, it remains horrid,
being in a force without control.
There’s a jail amongst the jails
inside my darkest noesis,
writing doctrines, sending mails,
Why do I love you?
The thought of freedom is so sweet,
the sunshine is so teasing;
I don’t even have the time to read –
your jail is just pleasing.
There’s a super massive blackhole
right at the center of our Milky Way,
so, I am not sentimental if I say
I love you for ever, and we can call it a day.
Hot and Cold are changing between us
like the poles of two atoms;
even turning back to the electric charges
ends us up in equilibrium.
This case is heavy;
everything’s in action –
let’s call for it a proper study
and make it elementary, dear Watson.
Here’s Iodine in red
that says nothing else
than someone’s injured health
is in need of a proper repair of cells.
We’ve got Lutetium, Vanadium
as a huge amount of consistent property
that may indicate an ongoing chemo-therapy
killing the disease of the mind rather than the body.
Then, we’ve got charged Uranium
that is up to fission to get a way lighter,
being ready to be a self and shared energizer
getting its treatment to vibe as a two-three highfiver.
See? Isn’t the case easy?
It’s a matter of chain-reaction.
Outcome? I’m pretty sure we’ll see.
Though, it’s still elementary, dear Watson.