the tiny bang

antiparticles scratching at my door

trying to get inside to tell me that they exist

if i ever wanted to give them a chance

instead of working with half my life already over

and wedged into the small corner of masturbation

and home where i felt like i needed not to look for home

anymore

for the distance was my body spent on another’s

who did the same when i didn’t know them

and they didn’t know me

or that a baby born could kill a father

and create steady pain for woman that never really abated with the mother

tired with the moon

and the cycle she never felt included in but wrapped around

as a bull mistaken for a calf

who was a pig the whole time

snorting boogers and saliva onto the child

already wet with the universe

and displeased that the first hands are gloved

in plastic that never really wears

but accumulates and accumulates

until there is a forest fire that shows the ingenious of humankind

who can create something that is never fully destroyed

like your voice diluting against another future not yours

and not the now

who i am trying to write to

with a hello goodbye

it’s been life altering

which is indistinct and could mean an altar should be built

where i am i sitting

isolated into particles

quiet as the black hood goes on above

with clouds curled into question marks

that soon laugh an answer of thunder

and greek gods that bring me to olympus

squealing there while sacrificed

to the longest suicide letter written

one that took a lifetime

while the antiparticles snuck under the door

to annihilate the remaining few left behind

at the time of creation