There is no void
Of space and time
More empty than
This soul of mine
Once filled with stars
And galaxies
A universe
Of energies
Supernova
Solar fusions
Nebulous
Gas cloud delusions
Streaking comet
Paths revealed
Burned out in
An asteroid field
With no escape
From gravity
This planet of
Depravity
On which no sign
Of life exists
A barren rock
Where death persists
As hunger reigns
With thirsty storms
And plagues infect
In global swarms
A stranger to
This ravaged home
An alien
To all I've known
My milky ways
Of cosmic bliss
Devoured by
My truth's abyss
A changing climate
Heart imploding
In my blackest
Hole foreboding
About the Creator
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More stories from Michael Brandon Marchese and writers in Poets and other communities.
Spectating
I can't imagine dying like this, in a place like this; on a cold, dirty pavement with rush hour traffic screaming by and a crowd looking on while paramedics struggle to find space to move. Who could? Deep down we all think there should be a reason, a moment of clarity... or a family presence, at least. For this man, this boy, the rail thin woman lighting a cigarette in a faux fur jacket will have to do - she's been here since the start, her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders as we fight to keep him on the right side of the line.
By S. A. Crawford5 days ago in Fiction
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