the heart is cloudy, and I am hot and dry
the tip of rain’s tongue
longing lolling
into withered chords
from plants packed up in sticks
synthesized
like nylon
we are
manufactured
This is a small section of the Carina Nebula (NGC 3372). A dust pillar. The birthing of a star.
this is the second year anniversary of the day our ship went astray. Moral among the crew is nothing. Moral is a vague reminiscence of a dream.
Though, on the upside, the tension that was brewing among everyone from prolonged flight has ceased. They have given up on ever reaching our destination...which was somewhere none can remember.
It does not matter now--the path before us is among these uncharted stars. Who knew that what was unknown was so spectacularly empty.
Recently decided to shut down all engines and hopeless navigational equipment. We will float on, to where we will float to, and destiny will be our map.
I am still tired, unlike the crew, who have given up on any such feelings. I want to say to my crew members, "farewell. I will never see you again". and I want to mean, but our ship will not ground, and solo escape missions are out of the question. We have always been on an escape mission, this entire journey, one long escape
There is a man on board, who I have never seen before, but I somehow know that he has always been here. He says to me, "you are sad because you have no cheesecake", as if he is trying to convince me of something. I see him when I frequent the observation deck, where I used to marvel at the passing stars and planets. That was when this ship had a set course. Now I don't know what to do with that wondrous sight. I don't know what to feel.
If you come across this message, I feel it is because you are lost as well, and I wish you the best of luck. We will float on.
------
tired holding
rolling eyes
my brain sequence
slips to
word association
every story I tell
has to do with drugs
It's as old as 1938
when LSD was born
and I was not
