Lost in space
with nothing to hold to,
I hang on to alien attentions.
Galaxies are passing by,
all these little tendrils
getting their way to my core.
Where did all the rose petals go?
Where is my shoulder?
Where my belly-button?
Nothing matters anymore,
or else,
nevermore,
floating,
and anyhow, all is crystal clear,
nothingness
is a warm blanket covering my pain.
Anguish is gone
forever,
till tomorrow,
on an errand,
or to darken up some ancient black hole.
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