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To Each His Own
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Proxima Centauri
I close my eyes
And let the world around me
Melt into dime of dreams.
Built from fragments of my imagination
Faith washes over me, assuring me if I just let go
Everything will be ok.
I'm too scared to let go.
Instead I try to calculate the distance
Between nothingness and forever.
I have a long wait.
There are voices screaming eloquent words
That make so much sense
They have lost all meaning.
Just wake up, just wake up.
Salty rain hit my foreheard.
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It is warm and sincerity
My hands feel the chill of ghosts.
Gripping me. They don't think I'll make it, I think they are right.
(Watching still images of my past spliced with words.)
Of the present traveling
At the speed of light is beating down on my senses.
The decision is killing them. I can't hold on for long,
Just long enough to give faint hope of life after death.
My mechanical lungs are rusted with age and tears,
Soon after they stop, all my questions are answered.
If only I had someone to share them with.
If I could just wake up, if I could only wake up.
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