5:30 is expanding and contracting. Satellite nullities, supple browns circling the haze of that star. I see codes everywhere. Red sleeves more than solitary, encased in breath too warm to be rain at all. The air's tiny death confronted by its own symmetry. Blank stares at a violent sub-text, equipoise splattered all over the mechanical glow. A brilliant cosmos exposes its spear of pleasure tonight, and my nebula has begun to tighten once again.