Goodnight, Void. I love you. You never talk back, Merely doing what voids do best. Vacuum expanses devoid of matter. No gasses to ripple with screams. Therefore, Silence. Perhaps outside expanses of nebulae, Where writhing death throes of ebullism - Play out in the cold regardless. Void? Goodnight.

Very chill. An absence of any matter at all, Really. Whereas earth creatures; Just undergo ebullism. Devoid of the 14.7 rough psi needed. One atmosphere, Almost identical to bar. So: Our liquids start to boil. Eyes. Mouth. Blood in our veins. Room temperature? Still boils in zero atmosphere, /2

Too much money and ambition can often lead to disaster. #spacesuit#spacewoman#spacesuit#pressuresuit#astronaut#spacex#womanastronaut#femaleastronaut#spacewalk#extravehicularactivity#decompression#ebullism#illustration#horrorart#sciencefictionart#scifiart#graphicart#weightlessness

"Remember you're dreaming. Become omnipotent." Trigger phrase doesn't work. Apparently my dreaming mind - Is a failure. Can never discern. Repeating the phrase does nothing. So I remain trapped; In endless cycles of death. Ripped apart. Devoured. Ebullism. Again. & again. & again. & again. & again.

Black Hole time distortions, Turning into spaghetti until pretty much... The end of time. Hopefully the gravitational mass, Kills you quick enough - So your freeze dried body can go spaghetti. See? Could we talk Ebullism - IN SONNETS? Concrete? Rarely - In jest. Rhyme? Only in homage, Or SATIRE. /\

Where children are treated like objects. No. No such deities are welcome, Within my domains. Vacuum, Silence. Falling prey to ebullism, A final brief sleep. One thing I did keep, From old conquests. Times when I was hallowed - In different ways. Drinking power, From others. Fed like a cur. /4

To drift in weightlessness. Pulling our legs up, As if the stored kinetic energy - Can shoot us back to safety. The handgun seems preferable, To asphyxiation or ebullism. But I never pull the trigger. Hungry for life. Feverishly set on living, No matter the cost. Not that such a little force - /7

Take me, Lover. Thy skeletal embrace. Cold pulling at my lips, Cracking & splitting. Experience ebullism, One PSI at a time. Apparently, I don't need that much oxygen to live. Wild thrusting in the dark. Lightless space. Flailing limbs. Sweaty moans. Silence is a beautiful song. Let me hear it.