On the Sundering

The light was out but it was churning fire instead of sun the world went on burning asunder some warping infinity a desire that I wouldn’t whet it was fire and brimstone that I wanted the maze of a circuit board time was synthetic scraping at the nape of my neck like the sharp edge of a scythe and increasingly yes, I accumulated disfigurements! I entangled with a collapsing star it was the apocalypse that I wanted the constellations were orchards of light the brightness kept me awake I was umbral and devoted to despair waiting for some kingdom to come I couldn’t hide that I was still frightened in the fires of winter I dreamt I was weightless the angels they stalked me it was the wanderers that watched me but the heavenly and the divine was not what kept me up at night