Sometimes I feel it pull on me,
this smoky caress against my face,
stroke of my hair.
I want to dissolve into the ocean or
a void,
endless monochrome.
Reverse Venus-birth, suspended falling.
Dissolution, resolution,
rich auroric depth falling through my chest
in prismatic, overlapping tiers.
Blissful death,
the melodrama and grandeur and vast coldness and
satiety of an end.
