I covered my ceiling
in plastic stars
that glow an obnoxious green
at night.
And I lay in bed and memorize them.
I ignore the half finished projects
and blouses in the corner
with hand written recipes
that I'll never make.
Every shard
of feeling
left by the day
brushed under the shadows.
I remember being little
and so interested
in the world.
I didn't pay attention to stars.
I didn't want to escape the day.
Now I'm an astronaut
of fake stars
on cracked ceilings
of silicone worlds
in obnoxious,
radioactive,
green.
New Year new nothing. But I would feel guilty in a few days posting something I officially wrote "last year" so it's inventory clean-out time. I forget what I have and haven't posted.
YOU ARE READING
We as Humans
PoetryGolden threads from a dirt human. Poetry and philosophy that I write for me and share for you. (Cover art by Gabriel Levesque/@oskadesign)
