Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2018
Tiny, does the sun go
Followed by the snow down
Ever as a shower in steam

Shallow, goes the systems
Out like a fire, rising
Sparks and they spread throughout the brain

Mythic, misting asteroids are crashing on the brakes
Swerving and you’re missing but you’re christ-like all the same

Glyphs are losing meaning on displays of melted grass
Gasses matronize a pattern, tanning on the mass

Squirming, does the chimp go
Crashing through the planet
Taking selfies with the blood and its core

Comment on my face
See, stressing for this weekend
Acting like you’ve been to space at all before

I would be an astronaut but who would beam me back
As it’s clearly known that Texas ain’t now on the map

Piling into a void, a horror seldom met
Practicing a breathing technique as it’s time for bed

Forward can we all go
Float and look away from
The past as none can spin themselves awise

Sky’s black in eye
And masking in between
A passing glance of our in-passing souls demise

Mourning what’s a bed of little matter accidents
Morning corks the breath in which we sigh its savageness

Storming takes the moon across our bodies limp orbit
Torrenting that morbid, now red heavenly orphan

The tears look dried
We exercise
Our broken, fated pioneer

This sense, this blear
We’ll all ascend
In death us surely owed a new frontier
Finished November 7, 2018
Nicholas Kirschner
Written by
Nicholas Kirschner  19/M
(19/M)   
213
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems