A Prayer to Futility
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You are the sobbing struggle of a star as it decays to red and consumes its offspring.

You are in marriage inescapable and love unrequited.

You are a dormant desert shrimp, waiting for rain that never comes.

You are the blind father in a gallery of his child's paintings.

You are the rain that cries out as it tries to avoid the Earth.

You are a honeybee that has stung but wants to live.

You are in the rusted engine of an abandoned Charger.

You are a parasite that longs for independence.

You are within the soundless scream of a drowning man.

You are the black hole that does not want to want.

You are a book in a world without language.

You are a hermit in a panopticon.

You are the scream of a pacifist bullet.

You are a mind without agency.

You are the god of atheists.

You are a slave to freedom.

You are a fall without end.

You are a flame without fuel.

You are a nomad in chains.

You are a numb masochist.

You are ice on the sun.

You are nostalgia.

You are regret.

I know.

The weik of Mataiotés.

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