Existential Dread

Life:
a low electric prayer,

and in that sound, 

I feel the universe

stretch, and weave,

and not care.

The stars are too far to matter,

and I am too aware to rest.

Earl Grey cools beside me,

a planet losing its sun.

Stars burnt out,

even if we still see them.

Somewhere, 

Everywhere,

Nowhere

clocks are swallowing hours,

swallowing lives,

swallowing us,

their metal hands grinding

our bones to dust.

I think of extinction—

not dramatic, just

quiet forgetting.

A slow fade.

A quiet exit—

stage right.

The way names unstick

from lips.

Meaning leaks like rainwater

through the roof of thought,

and I watch it pool in silence,

reflection trembling,

but holding shape.

The world keeps going.

I keep watching.

And that, 

somehow,

is the point

and the punishment.