My eyes light up with wonder as i gaze upon the stars, as if i am still a child. As if it is mystical, majestic, magic- the light that i gaze upon. As if the stars will guide me, or grant me, or as if I am like them. How I long to be alongside them. How could I long to be alongside them? To truly be among nothingness, in world where darkness dominates, in a world where nothing-nobody could hear me scream?

And one day your standing on a street corner and without having to listen you hear each individual string rip, come undone, plucked apart except these are not your guitar strings and you cannot replace them. The scotch tape that binds her limbs can be pressed down many times but the truth is it has lost its adhesiveness. Now you are wondering if it was the strings you were hearing or just the noise that seems to derive from her throat- it is so alien. Have you ever heard her make that sound? Have you ever heard this noise before? Have you ever heard anything before now? It isn’t until a tear smashes the weight of its catalyst onto the pavement that you realize she is crying. Has she ever cried before? Have you ever heard it? Have you ever heard anything before now?

I left my consciousness in the sixth dimension,

as I fell ceaselessly over the edge of outer space,

fingers untied,

strings broken,

connections disintegrated,

with the only thing I could be aware of was how small I really was.

Compared to him, compared to earth, compared to the entirety of the universe that held me.

A spec of dust on a spec of dust.

And I was happy there, while I was falling,

Because for the first time it wasn't for anyone,

Including gravity.

So I floated on, as my consciousness floated in the direction opposite of mine,

We reached our hands out to each other hoping for one last touch,

Until the room went dark.

My sight is blurring from these fogged up mirrors,

My shirt sleeves refuse to be involved as I search for something else to clear them

And I can feel my reflection underneath the dirt,

It is yelling, but the fog is too loud,

I wonder if it can breathe under there...

Was it yelling for help? Or was it yelling for some sort of realization?

I notice my arms start to move furiously forward, reaching for something that always seems to be too far away,

Uncovering,

Revealing,

Like trying to run quickly, or scream loud enough in a dream,

And suddenly there is no mirror, 

But an ocean, 

At first it is raging and wild, 

But it is always calm after a storm, 

And as I unearth myself from the dirt that withheld me, 

My perception will clear like the water that releases me,

And I will see my reflection that holds a manifestation of the person I wish to become,

And when the clouds become too heavy, and when heat mixes with cool, 

I will trudge on, soul against the current, until I am unearthed and unearthed again,

Dirt embedded in fingernails, 

And reflections unclouded.

Oh, creature, you are beautiful and cruel,

but with red Crimson flames kissing your scalp

instead of your lips,

and, creature, you are of the divine

in beauty, in mind, in structure,

I have been where you reside but I can't seem

to make my body radiate as much power as you possess,

I have been where you reside but I can't seem to make my presence as incandescent when it lies in a place so wavering and deep,

I have come from the place of which you derive but I can't seem to capture a single heart with a song from my own,

How do you do it, creature?

Will you teach me that song you've been singing?- It seems to be stuck in my head.

I love you,

and we both know your mouth is dry,

where was it that you learned that?

to run so furiously away from what aids you,

I could put it in a different container, a new glass if you like,

why won't you drink?

I wish I could still speak your language

I could warm it, or cool it for you

I could take it in my hands and press those hands to your hesitant mouth until the water falls and drains like grains of sand,

You are wild, horse, you are wild and I will never understand your resistance to be free,

I love you,

and we both know your mouth is dry

Here I stand, frozen

Stopped like golden clocks

Their hands as still as yours

You never talked to me about God

Not until now

I was going to ask, but I know you know what it's like to miss someone

Is it really you in my dream?

I remember hearing that drowning was the most peaceful way to die. I went my whole life believing it, and thought about testing the results myself a couple times after the accident. The accident...He wouldn't have saved me anyway. I mean, he would have wanted to... I'm sure... have you ever seen lightning in a person? have your ever felt it? I remember thinking that maybe if I was an artist you'd love me half as much. Maybe. ...I fall into this place... this horrifyingly alluring place, where the cadence of his voice ties my wrists behind my back... His eyes are black, I learned. I used to listen, sometimes, very closely, and I could hear the ocean wavering against the walls behind them, longing to crack the surface. They never did, of course. He knew better than that. He knew better than to mix water with electricity. Maybe that's why I wasn't enough. God's violent storms would often form on Crimson stained skin, but none of them as wide and as beautiful as to have lightning. Maybe I have felt it before, in a dream, or maybe I imagined the feeling when I felt it strike my face. I think I did once, actually. When lightning kisses your shoulders it is bound to burn, right? God, I don't think I've ever seen a room so dark.

How long have we been awake?

I've heard you question yourself in your darkest hours wether the oceans beauty derived from its depths or its reflections, Was it gray or was it blue?

Or was it the glistening image of the moon that captivated you?

I've seen you listen in search for an answer,

While you hold your ears tight,

But have you ever heard the ocean whisper?

You don't think you will but the dark thinks you might,

You don't know where you've been,

And you don't know where your going,

Go ahead, dip your feet in,

Cling to the rocks you're used to throwing,

Because I have heard the ocean whisper,

And I have heard it roar,

I've seen it in wildest dreams and

Ive been below the waves threatening lure,

And now I am under,

Lungs of flames and eyes of fire,

Veins of adrenaline and a mind of wires,

There are no white walls down here,

It's all black and blue,

Just sink to the bottom,

Like all the rocks that you threw,

You also know now where the oceans beauty resides,

Behind broken shells & newly crimson tides

And now only we will understand

when the room goes dark

that to be as wavering as the ocean

you have to fall apart

There is a time before each sunrise and sunset that nobody likes to talk about

between the circle

between the cycle

Where the moon dictates the arms of tides to cradle my lungs until I am as blue as they are

Where the moon desires and wills those arms to enfold and paralyze me there because I had said before there was too much empty space around me

There is a time between these cycles where the moon does not control those arms,

Where the moon sleeps,

These are the times in which I am awake,

And there is still too much empty space around me,

Sometimes I wished I could be the sun so I could dry the waters in which the arms grew,

Sometimes I wished I could be Cleopatra,

Untouched by the wavering, beautiful, and cruel, but with snake venom rushing through my veins

Sometimes I wished I would slip away in these arms while they held me so

Like a flame left in a windowsill put out by a whisper, or the transcendence of a whisper

But the flame is always lit again when another pierces the sky

When black fades to colors that do not derive from it

And there it is

The thing I want to become sits in the sky, in my reach

Until that thing I want to become abandons and abandons again

Falling gently, yet so heavily,

and the time between the circles

between the cycles

Where the moon dictates the arms of tides to cradle my lungs until I am as blue as they are

begins again