I Was Thinking

I Was Thinking

At break point
Will I split wide open into two fractured selves

or will I implode masterfully
Sucking the energy of all passerby souls
into my ever–spinning ear–splitting
Gluttonous void

I see extinction living here like chronic dust
Three–dimensional matter piling their sins
into a one–dimensional room – I can only
bring question

For nothing is certain
but death

under a flaming red sun
or a dry silver–white moon

©Dorhora. 5-16-13. All rights reserved.


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