Drift
Drifting at the edge of the universe,
fashioning myself a lie to tell as a story,
so that I may live forever in the finite space,
of the mind of a dead god,
who I have resolved to myself,
as a childhood memory,
that has grown,
steeped in the uncertainties of adulthood,
into a demon I call my mind,
fraught with a loneliness,
I only satiate,
when,
drifting at the edge of a universe,
I mould story from untruth.