It was dark.
For a moment, I could feel my heart racing,
Feel my tears rolling down my cheeks,
Under that space suit,
That godd*mn space suit.

I look around, one last time, maybe,
To see the wreck that was once my spaceship,
And the bodies that were once my friends.

“Is this the end?” I murmur, silently,
As there was no air to lift my voice,
And no voice to be lifted, huh
Wonder what could lift me up now,
Now that I’m staring down this… abyss.


Knowing my demise is just a matter of time,
I look back at the miserable qualia I call a life,
And wonder,
“What was it all for?”
All the tears, blood, atrocities, and wars within.
All the standards, must-dos, ambitions, ..LinkedIn?
What was it all for?
All the stress, all the worry, all the misery, all… life.

All I’ve known, and maybe some other,
Turning into despicable dust, ****** into the… abyss.
My bones begging to crush,
My muscles screaming to implode,
As I travel deeper into my existence, or what’s left of it.

My life flashing before my slowly-fading pupils,
A movie even the most absurdist, pretentious,
Sad, contentious soul would howl at.

I’ve been, running my whole life,
Searching, begging for a higher place,
And now, I stand petrified looking at the… abyss.
Humanity’s last thoughts, last conscious brain,
Witnessing the death of the, well, the other.
The highest place of all.

“I am immortal” I think to myself,
But I am really just a prophet of sorrow,
Sorrow that is my own.
So prophets die, and gods are ever-lasting,
And I am no god.
But a challenger to the latter,
Who now goes to meet them,
With nothing to show, not even chatter.

Blood boiling, tears melting my face,
This must be the curtain’s call, I realise,
But I now see the muse in the show of life,
I could still smell my grandmother’s perfume,
Could still taste the orange she just peeled for me,
Could still hear music she put on, one last time, maybe.

An orange!
An orange would lift me up, surely.