Over-saturation
of the whole damn universe,
as if we finally imploded
or maybe expanded too far
and I’m tryin to relay all the messages
to the appropriate people,
all the scraps I collected
and every moment I felt present
to wrap them up
to convince one another
that this is all
purposefully intergalactic and
beyond human intention.
Often I hear the things I’m sayin
but they haven’t made sense yet
so I put them on paper,
should probably burn them,
just offer them up
like little sacrifices.
What else to do with all these words?
They never stop falling,
revolving,
they are my planets
and perhaps my black holes,
just snippets of other-worldly
celebrations
and catastrophes
wandering gracefully
through the galaxies.