Zenith

Start writing...Indigo clouds paint dawn, another evening I descend into the Trifid Nebula; pools of dark matter cancel the existence of stars. A state of pervasive tenebrosity now just simply a vignette and I've lost recollection of three and a half days of my life, as small and trifle as it is to any passerby who can't grasp sonder. Ultraviolet radiation is fundamental to tunnel-vision and making any sort of promise to survive would be no aphorism. I know that when the sky is happy it turns pink, however such a feeling can't persist for long before it succumbs to overcast. My uncertainty may not suppress to wait each time. My wavering molds my notions to the overhead color-spectrum and I'd never lie unless I believed it myself. Supernovas are unpredictable, but we can predict they'll emanate their being for as long as they can. Supposed I'd be stabilized yet only dulled down to a stupor, but I guess it's better than surrendering my gravitational pull to a trampoline. The unfortunate dichotomy between being plugged into the sun before being burnt to a crisp. Planets always come full circle, just as a clinical representative. The blackness beyond zenith forever remains endless..... just as a clinical representative