The great abyss, it's cold metallic hiss, the drone of a vacant space in which all things can fit. Though when we dare to look, there is no constant light, just small sparks [battling dark matter] and clicks and beeps and the constant whir of the cooling system. Lay cold fingers across the bare skeletal construct. He used to breathe [warmth and life] such a familiar smell, the kind that could easily be bottled and sold to desperate souls. It breaks and falls apart so easily, distress marks lay across the belly of the beast we used to hold so close, so the hair would pass between our fingers, now just sand and now just dust. So quickly we forget that there is no up or down, or that if there is then we can not know it from our point of view [held in the grasp of celestial mass] . They stand poised for hostile takeover, yet still wishing for a peaceful resolution. No, no more, no more distractions, no more unsolicited visits, no more ghouls [banished to the realms of fantasy and the whimsical daydreams of the lost and weak
[ssb-2010]
