A billion suns and I get lumbered with this one.
Stroking his ego and stoking his flames all the endless day. There is no respite for me, no eclipse or turning the other face. No night.
Mama Void and Papa Dust cast us together and their dictates are final. They are not indulgent of their children, they brook no quarrels. Not to suggest they are uncaring, but unwavering, certainly.
He lashes out, plasma exploding in a burst of magnetic energy which settles across me warmly, tenderly. He is showing off, showering me with particles and radiation, kisses of fleeting eternity.
Science Fiction in Love.
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ReplyDeleteI like this personification. The ending leaves me with an interesting mix of thoughts. It is violent yet matches the science behind the metaphors; yet my thoughts drift into the personification of this and abusive relationships. (Yes, I'm guilty of reading more into this than is here; but it is fun to do that).
ReplyDeleteThanks Aidan. 'he lashes out' is such a loaded phrase, I thought long and hard about whether to word it differently, but in the end I liked the contrast with the following tenderness, it creates mental friction. This isn't a human relationship, but we inevitably apply human values.
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