this cosmos was too small to hold her together
eyes and patience glue torn skin into paradoxes
of doubles, triples, that juxtapose into one another
like a ripleless sea where noboby drowns, or lives
this galaxy anchors itself to the hinge of nothingness

its suspension couldn’t be reasoned, but she understood
with its chaos and insolence and moonbeamed shields
it would drift like the burning pages of its lined atlas
and she would breathe in its silver fumes, suffocating
on its philosophy until she was compressed into herself

and that would be the story, of the girl who asked for too much
she’d splinter and minimise like the screen of her content
until hell spat her out, until her reincarnation refused her
until nothing was left, but a shell that wasn’t really there
to exist in undiscovered universes, until she was erased.