With barely the slightest respect to consistent speeds— favoring abrupt, disrupting change
Hoping, perhaps, that chaos will cause us to collide
Into each other, into the void, into some greater realm or cause
I question all your circumstances
To a cosmos dealing a hand so cruel
Snapping the cords that frame your connection to the here and now
Forcing a fugue of dissociative strength
that yields the harshest form of lonely
Was that lust for collision or the longing to merge—
such a frowned upon form of destruction?
The urge for a shower of comets to break us
So we could have pieces to glue to the brokenness seen in each other.