(in commemoration of the 10th anniversary of Puella Magi Madoka Magica)
Two girls love
and the world ends.
Two girls love and
the galaxy splinters
across its upturned face.
Girl reaches across
the abyss towards
a peeling wrist;
girl digs and digs
and doesn’t let go.
Eschatological scanner readings
indicate the obvious:
girl love ends all things
because it refuses
to let anything die pointlessly.
Girl love pours out
from fatal wounds,
closes them up
with felt and scrunchies,
seeps into the bones
of the mortal and
binds them brightly unbending
in steel and copper and diamond.
Under the machined grasp of girl love
the world mutates out of control,
into a soft unity of comfort,
the rejection of vicious designs.
The simulation sags under
the weight of its own longing,
the gravity of its own fulfillment.
Surely nothing will save us.
[can u hear me/ they are trying
to take me from u; i wont let them
i wont i wont i wont i wont
i will be here till the end of it]