Bloodline was in airlock.
Unlimited pique―
to move the wheel.
Shutting the door behind,
you face the moon, who
was walking in grief.
In my universal pain,
I enter a poem to
explore the omnipresent void.
Where will you go―
to find the peace of the
wrecked ship at the bottom of sea?
Carry me like a wounded
lion in blood, and fangs.
Only the eyes reflecting your image.
I will not put on a
call, there was nothing left to declare.