I can feel the loneliness deep inside
the half-shaped moon, stripped, scorched, destroyed,
shifting, scrambled diction, hazy nonfiction, drifting
consonants and vowels lingering in meaningless
frames, confined in a sleepless state, searching for
its missing outer being to make it complete,
quivering in solemnness, struggling for freedom
and perfection, conflicting science crumbling without
reason, evaporating equations swallowed into unfamiliar
places, sunken history tumbling into the depths of the abyss,
disconnected from the great milky clouds and glorious
sun, its wandering metaphors hovering in some unknown
distant kingdom, in the depths of a solitary dungeon, dying
of its creative invention, broken sounds sluggishly surfacing
for air, fading shadows seeping further out into the inner wave
of Saturn, its decaying reflection changing between time
and space, rising and falling in forgotten eternities,
declining in rhyme and harmonizing patterns,
as shattered lovers diminish apart from one another,
locked away in frigid and featureless mazes, drowned galaxies
floating in sinking outer spaces, vivid blackness surrounding
its sunken design, lost languages falling apart into split and hidden
dimensions, swimming in stuttering syllables across the crimson seas.