Someone Asked Me to Write About Myself

I know my name means a flower

But I found a translation once

That said I was a metaphor

For the universe

And since the universe is tearing itself apart,

I found it to be painfully accurate.

And as my thoughts are scattered

Across the cosmos,

I cling on to the stars,

Keep them all balled up in my fists

The way a child clings to its blanket.

If the sun died,

It would be eight whole minutes

Before we even knew it was gone.

That’s how it would be

If I were to disappear.

My light would go out and

No one would know

Until it was far too late to do anything.

Sometimes I close my eyes

Only to find that I am slowly drifting,

Floating among the comets,

Trapped in this suffocating silence.

I explode like a dying star,

Building up pressure and holding everything in

Until I catch fire without sound

In this vacuum I am being smothered by.

And I swear that all the infinity of the universe

Is trapped inside me.

This is Hell.