venus sparkles in the ink feast of heaven, a yellow albino with a crown of white nettles, seething in magnetic storms. a singular *****.
the moon glows. pouring egg whites and phantasms over the earth, perched in oblivion's diamonds like a haunted brouche. it's gorgeous.
high above, clouds clench black velvet and cold fronts. they scrunch into ice crumbs and wrinkles. white streaks skate a blade of wind shear
into a swipe of a tiger's claw. while far underneath, the sodium lights of the suburbs, brawl.

you live in a house of pure things. where the dust has settled arguments. where harm has come to none;
but all have fallen. your house is a living thing,
dying to show you the Door...

and you know this.