The Singularity
There is a black hole. In fact, there are many.
It is hindsight that creates my vision.
Hindsight that swallows these saturnine words of mine.
Hindsight that has inadvertently created the end
To this little universe. To this. To me.
/
The world no longer dreams in pinks and blues
But exhales harsh orange, feeds on brilliant white.
Empty black is left in the middle,
Warping out into a strange sphere that haunts the sky.
/
My personal event horizon.
Crafted by black webs of lies and the microscopic truths
Spattered like bullet wounds across my back.
I ride the shockwave toward the red curve of dying light.
/
The gaping maw of the ultimate end
Pulls the thin, glimmering light from my thoughts.
The vacuum drones and the water dries.
What's there to mourn if it's already all gone?
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Silver Serpent Books
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About the Creator
Silver Serpent Books
Writer. Interested in all the rocks people have forgotten to turn over. There are whole worlds under there, you know. Dark ones too, even better.
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