standing breaths away
from an atom bomb
too far gone
it is the tiptoe of our
echoes
or the fade in of a song
i rebuild the evening
to tear apart the day
so what exactly is it
that you have to say
because i’m fifteen seconds
from a post-war impact
while bombs whistle down
trying to make contact
but self destruction’s repercussions
are silent obstructions of all the things
i’ve been loving
so make believe for the sake of cosmic buoyancy
that when density met gravity
that it was not destiny
rather just the dying dream
of a passerby[passing by deity