The burn, icy in the throat
Flaring up constellations as it goes,
Spitting up supernovas that blast in puffs
of grey air and curl into the ether,
like an afterthought.
Tongue tied, lightly listless in the snow
Glowing white with the wonder
Of nothingness in the mind.
Denied the deafness,
Dreary doubts and thoughts of morning, where sunlit and blinded fumbling take hold,
Knowing devolves, unknown.

Synapses sizzle like taut guitar strings,
Plucked with the pining of the in-between,
The nameless dimension
Where everything is and isn't.
No, box.
No cat.
Schrodinger, doffs, tips cap and theory
To the bountiful bleakness of being.
Explanations die,
Shoot stars behind the redness and the glassy-eyed smile.
Words fail, burnt up frozen
And flailing in their mediocrity.
Silence spins, giggles fill its spaces
And gravity grounds the freedom.