the slow weep of winter

neutron stars and gravitational constants and forces that are inexplicably black and hole-like. how strange of our peanut quality brains to stare at the cosmos rather than at the faces around us. to stare into the eyes of God and try touch the colours that compose his character. to see his irises in nebulae and hope the judgment doesn't come in ultraviolet radiation.

if studying nuclear fusion for too long can ignite it within the walls of your own skull, i think it's happened to me. every synapse and memory are mashing together in some humanoid version of the proton-proton chain. except the byproduct i'm emitting is toxic human stink rather than neutrinos. half-opened eyes and conversations with myself. with a brain like soup and a heart like a question mark. is something that's supposed to make you smarter supposed to feel like it's killing you?

this is the way the world ends

this is the way the world ends

not with a bang but with a whimper