So I Could Live by Aaron BlairThis the story I told myself so that I could live.
I meant to hide everything inside of me.
Everything that had ever existed
and some things that never would.
Within me the universe is spreading,
celestial bodies spinning away from the cataclysm
that created them, the cradle where they were born.
Soon, I'll be pulled apart.
The universe cannot be contained.
When I smile, you need to close your eyes,
or they'll be burned out by the light
of so many furious stars, trapped in a coffin of flesh
so dumbly human it thought nothing of devouring them.
Now, they're only diamonds in between my teeth.
There are two worlds:
the one we know and the one we can never know.
When I sleep I dream of both.
I imagine somehow dwelling in between them,
able to see both but belonging to neither.
It's a dream as beautiful as it is terrifying.
I laugh and cry in equal measure.
There are rules.
The engine runs because it follows them.
The story unfolds because it follows them.
I'm human, and I can only follow them.
I can only have a beginning and a middle and an end.
Birth, stagnation, decay.
An explosion radiates out to fill the spaces it can,
but then it collapses back in on itself.
I see a light so bright that it reveals everything.
Then I see nothing.
There was never a story.
I lived anyway. 07/06/2016 Posted on 07/06/2016 Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair
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