Your DNA, like nail clippings caught between my teeth,
A memento-mori of the inevitability of our decline,
The staccato glitch of the attenuation of our end,
Our ultimate omega and destruction, your terminal crime.
It was that touch, ever so soft and malignant,
The flesh of my cheek, your hateful transgression,
The heat and the burning, the agony of my denial,
An act of malfeasance, scorched earth a mile wide.
Destruction my insatiable fetish,
While asteroids ignite and disassemble,
Punching through the diaphanous tapestry;
of memory, of time, and of place.
Gravity is an indiscriminate bitch.
John Bowers © 2017