Bill Nye Gave Me Advice

I am tired,

not sleepy, but tired 

staring into some kind 

of black hole--

science would tell me 

a theory,

about a wormhole

 to another existence,

a different state of being,

maybe brimming with 

chronic optimism

not a dying star 

but a budding planet

teeming with all the tools 

of life,

but for now 

I feel joy, evaporating 

off my skin in little drops

slowly but not slowly enough,

science would tell me 

about condensation 

and that the joy will gather above me

gaining weight, progressively,

quickly but not quickly enough

and cascade down onto me,

maybe then I will dance 

and hold my tongue out to it 

and drink, filling my belly,

but for now

I am exhausted, 

not tired, but exhausted 

exhaling toxic gasses 

which, science would tell me

will fill the room--

the volume of the container,

I need to wear a neon sign 

declaring "POISON, beware!"

because I could make anyone sick

I am sorry.

Not apologetic, but sorry. 

That this black hole is a dark spot

in anyone's vision, a magnetic anomaly

on the surface of the sun

which, science would tell me,

blooms unexpectedly,

raging, furious,

fucking with FM radios and 

Sirius satellite signals,

but, again, science would tell me

when it peaks, it blossoms,

erupting across the night sky

the Aurora Borealis

behaving erratically, beautifully.