unplugging the internet at the end of the world

I’ve traveled to space for this

humble death, & the quiet astronauts

were right—everything lonelies,

the stars spinning in graves big as moon

I don’t know why I’m killing the connection–

I wanted to be a god but not like this—

before the geometry gives

I rip off my unpleasant suit

and pet the corroded wires

cutting my cord,

there goes my desire

all the little people yearn below me

I understand rust as a symptom

of longing—if i can be anything,

please strip me naked