NGC 6302

Words are useless, aren’t they?
Everyday, I sit down
Take the rocket
I try to write about my rollercoster mind
I fail, everyday
Everyday carries a new attempt
Imagery triumphs over the weakness of words
Its resolution is unmappable to strings
Ironic, because here I am, again
Taking a chance
Attempting one more time
To convey my sensory experience into constructs of human compression
Would you say I’m failing?
Personally, I think I am failing
We mustn’t see the world in black & white, you say
But it is black & white with no gradient
That’s why the resolution is immense
And the repurcussions are important, idiomatic
I’m small, fragile against the citadel of the universe
I’m one moving part, made of many parts
I’m constantly dissociating, associating, connecting the dots
I’m the artist and the art, the recursive algorithm and the coder
No stack overflows in my brain
I was designed by the omnipotent
I have no memory leaks, no blue screen of death
My greatest sin is being a bad artist