Keep it together, man.
Keep your mysterious ways.
I’m not superstitious. I know basic physics:
entropy, forces, the states of matter.
The universe craves its own destruction;
we all fall apart
no matter how we fight it.
In the end, our atoms release one another
and become something, someone else
until there’s no one left to become.
So why not reform as lightning?
Why fight the phase transition
when I had it in me all along?
For there’s only so long you can pick and pick and pick at a scab
until the pink skin peeks back at you
like an abyss.
Today I release these old hurts,
let them float away
in a broke-down EM field—
or not—I don’t care—
for I have become what matter always was meant to.
I lied. I do care. And
you can make whatever promises you like
but I remember basic physics and
heat death is just scientist-speak for