the sun

oh my god, the sun

the way she fucking radiates

makes my head spin

she makes all of our heads spin

with the gyrating of her hips

as she kisses the stars

the sun

is the only one

that matters

in this universe

of revolving planets

the sun

is at the

center of it all

we will gradually decline into disorder-

your fingertips will meld

against my hips

my lips

will smear your skin

in the most chaotic way-

our hand-in-hand

will slur into

bodies

callously intertwining,

until our degree of havoc

is so high

that we collapse

onto cotton sheets

as dust particles

and broken pieces

we will fall apart

with the whole world knowing

entropy increases

You, my darling, are the most highly evolved creature I know.

Your dark, vivid, and lively eyes are the epitome of natural selection.

You are what the potential mates long for.

You are who they want to increase genetic variation in the gene pool with.

Quite frankly, though, I'm glad you're my organism and not anyone else's.

The canvas was unusual in its darkness and depth;

The pure blackness seemed to go on forever.

Edges appeared and disappeared with each instance -

It was constantly in flux, forever transforming to a new nothingness.

I closed my eyes and visions of swirls and stars burned against my eyelids.

This would be my masterpiece, I was sure of it.

Light surged through my arms from my heart down to the very tips of my fingers as I dipped my paintbrush into the billowing metallic star stuff.

A deep breath.

As the paintbrush neared the canvas, the energy surrounding seemed to plunge into the darkness.

Finally, contact.

Slowly, I twisted the brush outward as the entire canvas simultaneously rushed in toward the epicenter.

"Bang," I whispered.

It was from the love of the Sun and the Moon.

When they came together the Earth began her moods.

The mood of love was the strongest of them all.

But with no one else, the Earth could only love herself.

It was then that life began to bloom.

All from the love of the Sun and the Moon.

hydrogen floats endlessly to collide with many other things

it was such a coincidence

it was happenstance

it was everything that could go wrong- go right

the love of all these atoms is so strong that it sets the universe on fire

flowers are blossoming and ocean tides are beginning to crash mercilessly to be reunited with the sand again and again and again

imagine having a love like that

the best love story of all existence

might be the one that happened out of pure chance

Like two lovers too soonly parted we all once made up one lone singularity. My hair, your eyes, torn apart by the forces that be, in a large. The ability from here to there to by your side and back as we affect each other across spans of space faster than light. An invisible force, binds us together and as you wander away I will fill ache in my heart and feel pain the pain of entanglement. Forever tied to you.

Whether you are Murphy Brown, Charlie Murphy, or the bassist to the Dropkick Murphys, the universe finds a way to do whatever the hell it wants. It may seem as though the universe conspires against some of us and give everything to others, there's a little thing that you should remember, in any of it's many ways to be said.

Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

(The general way of saying the universe is just an envious little prick.)

If anything just cannot go wrong, it will.

(The pessimist way of looking at things.)

Things get worse under pressure.

(Thermodynamically speaking, of course, but has a tinge of humanity to it.)

Mother Nature us a spiteful bitch.

(The capitalist and non-environmentally minded way.)

In a world without this wonderful law, would there be any reason to nearly anything? If we knew exactly how everything was going to come up, imagine how boring and predictable our lives would be. Our ancestors would have lived without being marveled by the thought of traveling to space since they attempted to fly once and it didn't pan out.

A universe without that ray-sho (ratio, and a shout out to my favorite professor) of random outcomes to any instance in our lives would have gotten us nowhere real quick.

Terese's peach dingy-bob socks proved it.

Francois straightened his peach tie, yesterday's gold, preceded by the lemon and now peach socks, exactly matching his ties! What were the odds of that equation? What were the odds of a woman just like him?

He almost ran to her, but wobbled while he waited until he manned up. He couldn't possibly face up to her like this. He'd always been a sorter, nothing pleased him more than a rainbow of ties in his top drawer sorted by color and held in their original containers, except perhaps, the monogrammed handkerchiefs all hemmed in the same rainbow.

The true name was pompom tennis socks. Oh, heaven, how could he slip up so badly.

Was she laughing at him? A quick glance showed her stalwart Swedish frame, curly hair, her face quite serious on the sheet of numbers before her. She wouldn't know him well enough yet, she'd only worked one week on their team. It must be instinctive.

He strolled over and sat down beside her, feeling his pulse quicken. He took deep breaths to still the heat rising inside him but then just about lost it when he saw her figures.

Neat Geometry font school picture numbers. Exactly parallel lines. No trace of eraser. Mimeograph (as if anyone used that old technology anymore) perfect black ink. She wrote in ink.

Why had the rooms walls moved inward?

"These are the micrgravity figures for March?" Thank goodness, his voice showed not one quiver of a quaver.

Terese finished the column and checked her addition three times, forward and backward before setting down her pen, laying it parallel to her squared to the desk page of paper.

Would his friend's believe it? He couldn't hardly believe it himself, even though he'd been teased relentlessly all his life for the exact same habit.

"Yes, there's no greater than 0.015% error in any of the figures. The volcano cone is collapsing inward. Is it warm in here?"

Her skin did seemed flushed, her eyes crossing over her nose until she met his.

"Yes, I think this office seems smaller, more condensed one might say, since the new team came on."

"I'm not the only new hire?"

"No, no, two more in finance, over against the wall, and one in communications, Helse, I think. You've met them?"

Something tapped his finger, her? Oh, gracious.

"Of course. No one said anything."

Should he put his arm on the back of her chair? The thought spread through him like wildfire, just touch that silky hair. "They wouldn't. Will you be off to Nicaragua, soon?"

"Next year, perhaps. Philip has me scheduled for Italy next month. Will you be going?"

Implosion. He carefully laid his hand on her chair, touching soft silky gold. Then he remembered. "Afraid not. Did you have any questions about the data? It looks very precise. I like that."

Her smile involved only the tips of her lips. "I thought you might. Nice tie."

Got her. She said it first. His smile felt rueful. "I like your tennis socks, nice pompoms. Do you play?"

"No, I like to watch."

Bingo. "I thought you might. Well, there's a staff meeting in fifteen minutes. I'll see you there. It's my turn to bring the coffee." Ha. Let her bring sexist charges with that one.

Standing straight, the pressure cooker of minutes before had slowly expanded to fill the room, Philip thought sadly. Too bad, she had seemed so perfect. Obviously his boss was out to get him again.