A final inhalation, farewell to oxygen
submitting to oblivion
a conscious lack of everything.
The very absence of air, sickening and
desolate, destitute, despairing
tearing at my aching lungs,
my vacant mind.
Call me a vagabond, a wanderer
entrapped in the extrasensory.
My breath escapes.
The empty core within myself rings in tune with the extant and extinct.
Neck arching, mouth agape
a single note transcends my lips of stone
unadulterated, unwavering, a melodious sound
building and joining in harmony to create a symphony of
life, of
death, of
everything we cannot comprehend.
Sonorous and assonant
my soul cries out
at ever-growing volumes.
My eyes begin to flicker and fade away.
God, can You hear my screams in space
in this vacuum, void of sound?
The final thoughts of an astronaut removing his helmet while in space. Inspired by and written to a track called Suicide by Star by post-rock group God is an Astronaut. The band name, oddly enough, didn't influence this poem at all. Didn't think of it. Seems fitting, though. Check it out.
I think I'm gonna be off HP for a little while, but I'll definitely be back. Just not feeling super inspired lately. This has been a great community and I've truly enjoyed it, though. Thanks to all of you, especially Daniel Lockerbie. You are a rad man.
Farewell, friends! Until next time! (which, knowing me, won't be long).