An Astronaut’s Final Moments Before Being Destroyed by a Rogue Comet

Could you be an after-thought of cross-walk talks and new-found faults? Please flag me, baby, stab me. Wrap me in your sheets then drag me through the red light intersections sliding on a sleet suspension reading twice for comprehension.

I still

think of you in hospital clothes, how your apartment still knows why I think I have to go, because there is nothing here but dead end careers, empty brown bottles of beer against your ankles while you steer.

And how

dare I get attached to your coffee, your sense of modest display, the sofas where we would lay. When there’s no lack of desire that could ever hope to stop me, you’re the only one that bought me, no matter what you say. Later, in a dream, I’ll be surprised to find you caught me. I was thinking of mathematics. God, why are thoughts always so costly?

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~ by perfectionatrix on February 4, 2010.

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