Beyond the gray matter and the decay
the deepest part of me lays in quarantine
rusty and cracking but whole, and counting the second to her release.
In some million years when the sun goes red and the canyons close...
perhaps then I will have evolved into something less fragile
and as history repeats itself
I will be able to weather the ash that falls from the sky
And I will be apathetic to this hurt that has been our ruin.
We'll look at this very clinically.
A scientific mindset that sees no mystery in the dark side of the moon
and no majesty in the stars.
A simple cause and effect
where I ripple ceaselessly at your touch
and you crack after each of my words.
In a logical future
We will repel each other
and I will no longer be compelled to bend to your gravity.