Stars blossom between your teeth as you leave the last known place, entering the infinite amount of possible spaces to explore, chewing the last rations of sanity and security, floating as you swallow the last barrier of nervousness keeping you from cutting the tether
anchoring you to the last known star: one more burst from your pack and you will be
where no human has been, lived, breathed
as far as you know, at least,
and you stumble over the crumbs of your last meal of planet-bound lights, full yet hungry after feasting on familiar motions, round and round, the clockwork of a solar system gnawing on the bones of months and years, and then you spit out the rocks in your mouth to leave behind your mark in meteor streaks
as you go out into the dark
to nourish your curious soul.