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