Episolarity

Here is the previous and the first literary composition of Epi series.


My darkness, my core, my unopened eyes,
I write you this on a sheet of dark matter
In a burst of electromagnetic radiation.
Forgive my poor script but I am cramped and cumbersome
On the surface of this neutron star.
Time is dragged down into lethargy
And my patience is compressed to a painful disc of anxiety.
The time is not yet right.
Time is not yet right.
I mark the moments in prison,
My anvil, my rock, my darkened lighthouse.
The moments collect on my chest, my eyes.
They are tiny, Dense.
Your rescue is distant as a star.
But am I not your magnet, your charm, your strange hero?
I will send this on the next rotation.
It is so hard to move.