Literature
heat death...
You, my dear, my love, my dove, my fear,
are
heat death vs big freeze vs big bang vs pangaea:
you are nothing and everything and the world
focused into a single point,
all colliding with one another.
You are not a black hole, but a little girl,
dressed up
in opaque tights and a black skirt and the
darkest shirt that her mother owns, because she
is a bright little girl and owns no such thing,
in the school play of '03.
This, my crash, my system, my solar, my lunar,
is far from
falling from the stars, because those that fall
from that height have their brains squeezed out of their
ears, and that is not how I feel anymore.
This