Wide Open Flame

Why I write.

What is the use of all these words?
That’s a f**king question
I have to make words
It’s the only thing that slows my mind
To create sentence structure
It has to play nice
Straighten it out into (mostly) logical coherence
Otherwise, it’s a solar system in here
One ruled by chaos not Newton’s laws
Not even Einstein’s
A universe filled with 
Orbiting thoughts  
All at varying speeds
And asteroids 
And comets 
Black holes
Jesus, those suck
You know, if I think, oh, mark that, remember that, it’s important
Black hole comes and sucks it into oblivion 
Wtf, black hole, not cool
And the sparkling planets distracting me
And shooting stars begging for attention
And constellations I find and stare at for hours in awe
And the amount of nothing in here!
The amount of space to float in 
Live in
Get lost in
Sometimes it’s calming 
Sometimes it’s overwhelming 
Sometimes it blurs the lines between outside of me and inside of me
And the large gas emotional planets growing and shrinking 
Taking up space and giving it back
And the moons subtly pulling this way and that with their weight 
The pockets of hot space
Where I go to keep warm
And then there are supernovas
So hot and bright 
I love them 
I can feel them coming
The pressure building 
And the beautiful burst of epiphany
And there’s sinister things in here too
Horrors in the darkness of space 
Fears that creep in the shadows of planets 
And, well, all of creation and destruction and existence begin and end in here
The edges of me expanding 
Like the rest of the universe 
Until it’s all spread so thin 
There is nothing left
But the words