Words become impossible to string together

When my synapses misfire in tangled disarray

The illusion of choice starts to make sense

As my bleary eyes struggle to stay hinged open.

The feeling of insignificance envelops my being

And constricts my existence; rope around my honeycomb


Intangible, Insignificant,

Depressive denial.

I’m not scared, I think.

I promise to do well, I hope.

The thoughts in my head race for the stars,

As the vacuum of space is their destination; they evaporate in the

oppressive nothing.

I now connect with the matter in the universe,

And understand what it’s like to be a particle amongst indignant


I, a lonely hydrogen atom,

Cannot stop the collision of the Milky Way and the Andromeda.