Space Ghost

A Poem by James

Crushed smoke quartz. Aging via crystal method. Clock heads. Users taking time in vein. Glass blown to hold a light years worth of star dust. He inhaled the universe and coughed out solar flares; blowing rings around Saturn and chasing it down with moonshine. Time zoned and spaced out, he's stuck in between the in between. The space where tick and tock have ceased to reach. The land of broken second hands, smoked quartz Rocky Mountain ranged horizons, he dives in. Immersed in the feeling of gravity from galaxies expanding in his chest cavity, his world has become an imploding wormhole. He's covered in ash from the super novas that fell in his lap while attempting to escape his astral influences. No body hears his cries for help because there's no sound in space. And he's probably right next to you... I see you.