Her head on your chest, eyes closed, a faint breath breaks the silence. Your eyes stare into the night, rain pours down in an irregular rhythm. Somewhere, beyond the great sea of nothingness, is a woman, crying on the kitchen floor. There are shards of blood beneath her feet, her eyes sore and lungs raw from screaming to gods who won’t listen.
DID IT MEAN SOMETHING?
And you tilt your body, just a bit, to reach your phone. Her grip tightens as she clings on to you. You are meant to be here, under her body, in a drunken room. It could be mere minutes, nothing more than a week, you’d stop talking, like you always do, you’d face down and crash into the floor again, engulfed in flames.
DID IT BREAK YOU?
A man, with red, puffy eyes, a bottle in his hands. He’s laughing and screaming, crying and trembling, curled together like a newborn, whimpering for his mother. But there is no mother, and there is no man, only dust and tears soaked together, fingers reaching into the distance, hovering over the horizon.
WE ARE THE BYPRODUCT OF A TRILLION YEARS OF COSMIC EVOLUTION, A THERMODYNAMIC MIRACLE. WE ARE THE WAKING UNIVERSE AND THE STARS AND THE SUNS OF THE FOREVER. WE ARE PURE AND JUST, WE ARE THE NEVER ENDING LOVE OF THIS WORLD.