A Glass Corner of the Universe
Shimmering, transparently opaque,
infinitely shatterable, yet stoic and solid for so many.
A word, even a letter, and the harmonius balance of uninterupted tranquility lost, broken,
infallibly explosive like the martyed ant under the microscope of cosmic curiosity.
I thumb my nose, and it breaks off, falling to a non-existant floor,
then I remember I don't even understand the concept of floor at all.
All that lies beneath is the dark void of a nothingness composed of everything that could be something.
And so I hang, bleeding and cut,
lacerated to the soul's bone,
by my aching fingertips,
to my glass corner of the universe.