Fly into the sun. His bright eye walking over you with disdain,
making helium rise.
Try and stick the landing straight. Make sure you don’t break your knees.
Do it you want, I guess.
Fly into the sun, the bastard, master of the human settlement
That we like to call shit.
Burning feet. Disintegration. Carbon coming out of every pore.
Hello Mr. Sun. How kind of you to grace us with your presence today. I didn’t know you could do that.