Everyone's caught on
humans try to
play god
who doesn't exist

Who needs heavenly
voices
when you can get a
text message
from yourself
the day after you dropped
acid
that reads,
"cherish these moments
be happy as a component
in a world made of
patterns"

Maybe when I die
they'll jettison  my body
out past Saturn
so I can escape from
this atmosphere
of looming endings
and juvenile fears

I believe in the cosmos
where no one has
a throne
or a bigger house to
not call a home

out in the asteroids
wealth doesn't matter
neither does gender
or whose abs are flatter
I hope when
I'm drifting
that my spirit doesn't shatter
like the plates I dropped
staring in the mirror

Seeing myself
through the eyes
of someone who loves me
my fingers dusty
from the space debris
created by my
body