My darkness, my core, my unopened eyes,

I write this on a sheet of dark matter in a burst of electromagnetic radiation. Forgive my poor script but I am cramped and cumbersome on the surface of this neutron star. Time is dragged down into lethargy and my patience has compressed to a painful disc of anxiety.

Awful time.

Time is not yet right. I believed I could wait forever; now I doubt I can wait another hour. These moments that separate us, I record them with prisoner’s ticks, my anvil, my guilt, my dark lighthouse. The seconds collect on my belly, my breasts, my throat. Choking me.

Your rescue is distant as a star. Fear sinks into my gut and I wonder if you still await me. Were you ever waiting? I draw shallow breath and curse myself. A merry Fool, writing letters to a delusion.

But am I not your magnet, your charm, your strange hero?

I am sending this with an escaping gamma ray on the next rotation. I will do what I cannot do. I will wait a little longer.

The Fourth Letter »