sometimes, the width and breath of my world, reduced to my apartment and the occasional hospital corridors becomes tiring. sometimes, i dream of the brilliant, blinding days of my youth.
sometimes, i wonder. i remember driving to las vegas and stopping in the desert at three in the morning. no civilization for hundreds of miles and getting out of the car and seeing galaxies. no manmade light to interfer.
i took off all my clothes and walked into the desert. and standing there, naked and cold, staring up at the most beautiful thing i had ever seen, i realized i was sending a letter home. that i was were i belonged.
and i longed for home. not in a sad way, but a glad way. and as i prepare for the reality that awaits us all, i realize that my world hasnt really shrunk, just my orbit.
i still hear the music of the satelittles as they sing me to sleep. all i have to keep doing is to breath in and then out. the requirements are fullfilled. and then the orbit changes.
and as the orbit decays, i descend like a beautiful glowing blue green streak of light across the night sky. burrowing deep into the ground. into the sea. into the endless ice plains.
i am forever and forever i will love you and long for your touch. i am not dying and i am am not sad. my belly is not distended. it is a garden of starlight, singing and swimming to be released into the night sky.
orbital and endless. at least until the airbag fails to deploy.