Should stars gleam so bright, I’d grasp each one,
Yet my hands would scar.
A heart that aches, in this shifting world,
time swiftly flies.
Purgatory’s chime, a strange sound,
Like a dinner bell.
Echoing down life’s cavity, it decays,
Out, dinner goes to rot.
To dwell in spaces, vast yet confined,
My quantum heart collapses.
Awaiting death’s touch, in tender embrace,
Lost rooms, I find home.
Thought Vacations 