Body, Celestial


On my axis, light years fast.

A cosmos in a blur after what you just did to me. A cataclysm of stars shattering into stars, all over our simple dark matter. The planets eclipsing and aligning from the the touch of infinite entropy. This is how it feels, not to stop time, but light and space.

This is the condition of my body, celestial. You have taken my centrifugal force and crushed it to ring dust, solid and ephemeral. You have pulled me with your brazen and insatiable gravity, held me in the vacuum of universal expanse, and have claimed my atmosphere. Your constellation of violation devoured me like an ancient, feral totem in the night sky. My every molecule constricting, contracting to your tumultuous, astral core.

You hammer out the conditions for inhabitable or inhospitable, shooting stars or solar flares. Soft as a wish, wrathful like the Sun.

Polar shifts and asteroid strikes and the murderous cold of nothingness, all have occurred.

All, you will call down for again.

You have anointed me with fire, captured me with ice, soothed me with water and buried me in deep soil.

You are Goddess and defiler, Mother and murderer, you are life and loss.

And you have me spun.




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