telescopes spun into your irises so the sun's tongues would scathe
your own so it would bleed your brain, then burn it making yourself into a glowing golden haven for the girls who sleep on saturn's soft skin and you dine on their oh so fine off axis grins star
bright eyes and tender but burning cataclysmic comet comments of commitment.
you are reviving yourself in their
woe of your self, just let them assume that you are just burning them up instead of snuffing them out.
oh what a wonderful universe.