an interstellar vacuum is far from empty, all the water in the universe is melted comets, and it floods all reason.
bloodstar from afar or Cape Canaveral close, no astral projection there, only a cipher in a foreign quadrant until...teardrops, big, wet, unsympathetic drops.
hear it now! the sonic boom of marooned tourism, in short shots, fast cuts, horizonal eddy currents ripe with thorns, like lakes of suspicion, if God is listening then this mission is in trouble.
downcycled planet in the wires and cigarette lighters, a home without space, Andromeda chained in sacrifice to sate the monster, her punishing beauty cascading over the peril that everything in the universe is recyclable – even you!