Asterisk*

Roses and Raindrops*

*As one walks around in the midst of romance, context following the sound

I walk around dreaming in my mind,

Sitting in the sunshine inside the turquoise beast,

Buried in the nether of neither region.

Wishing on a star that ended up in a puddle,

Betting on the tribute who dies first.

But a single rose petal drops from the sky,

Lands on the edge of the window,

And flies away.

A drop of rain falls.

Apollo

A rose has a thousand petals and layers all in one, thorns and a green stem threatening to take out the rest of the beauty with one sharp wave of the sword, down with the game of life as soon as the winter blooms. Meaning a thousand different things, it can be remembered as the thorn that pricked you into an everlasting curse, or the gift given to you by the person that made all of your petals bloom in the first place. A thousand different colors, a thousand different possibilities. There's something new for every mood; as artificial as the color blue, bringing the sky down from the heavens onto Earth, or red as the blood that falls from my fingers, bringing down the bar in hell and turning it into the truest form of love.

Through the push and pull of existential features in every realm of the universe, love flew through the veins of the system we had put in place. One through a thousand streams, one through a tear lost in the waves, salty and sour as the never-ending storm created within ourselves. Locked in our hearts, we throw away the key and dance to the sound of it falling around us, the world ending the second the click-click makes its way to our ears. A burst of explosion, one last touch of endlessness, one proportion that you set up for the rest of your life. Hey, you might have stolen my heart, but the world would end us both, right?

And there, that's the epiphany of it all. One more sound making its way through the masses, trying to find their own way into the crowd of the society we pride ourselves in not being like. We're trying to do everything, yet find ourselves doing nothing, prick, prick, prick. Roses are red, violets are blue, the world seems upside down, and so do you.

But sometimes, the world becomes clear, and just for a second, I feel like my thoughts become crystal clear too. But that's just for a second. Then everything becomes blurry again, the rain coming down and running through the grooves of the petals in a fresh florist's house. But the pesticides, the bugs, they all chew away at the beauty nature made for ourselves, our own worst nightmares being each other made from the conquests of ourselves. Maybe we were destined. Maybe we made our own demise. Or maybe, just maybe, we've come all this way for nothing, only to be wiped out by a stray asteroid that hits Earth when it runs out of willpower to keep going. That's a thing you could say.

Or you could say it's a lump of rock with nowhere else to go.

A lump of rock.

A ball of fire.

A stray heart left in the altitude of Everest, never climbing down, frozen under all the snow.

There's a star in the night sky that shines a little brighter than the rest tonight. Around it, there's those that shine brighter than anything the little star has ever seen, happy and twinkling down onto the moon like they had no care in the world. There's an expanse of happiness in the night sky tonight. It starts with one, spreading as slowly as an eternity, but as infectious as a laugh. To the people of below, they're as ethereal as they can be, a one, two, three and never again. We don't count stars because we know it's better not to. But we count people, lab rats of people made by people, trapped by people, contained by people. People. And suddenly, we don't seem so human anymore.