in quire

a radiation of amino acids coming down like rain falling softly. i turn my eyes in their sockets trying to see something, but nothing. i can't imagine what it's like to handle the origin, the singular effortless motion. like cursive. i am adrift in the edifices of creation. to seek is to know less and less. whereabouts are your morals? they fall down the pits. moving faster or slower makes very little difference. you get there all the same, in pieces and tattered and tired and close to death. death is then the creator. life is a brief flash overtaken by quiet. i bury you in the space between the two stars i see right now. and i won't see them tomorrow. it's so temporary. i want to cling to you to find footing, to buy some time. spending it all. when i am joined within you i am gentle and kind and free to do as i please.