My brain is on fire.
Thoughts scald me like liquid stars
And ask me to soar with them.
But my heavy skin chortles and reclines,
Refusing the celestial invitation.

So for now, I sit
In a galaxy of homebound ideas.
My binding words wrapped around me.
Concepts haunting my every move:
Things I should do, start, cry.

I go to the kitchen to invent dinner.
"One small step for man," I mutter.
I become my universe that feels and knows.
Finite, obsolete, dull.
As dark as the sea of space.