a star. an asterisk is a star. it neither shineth nor twinkleth. to concentrate upon the focal point where all the lines run together like some kind of catastrophic car crash. to hone in.
to bury oneself alive under the soil of it.
the flame of desire dances on the wick. burning ember glowing orange bewildered. how it is hot like a murder under the fingernails. how it enrages red when you blow upon it. just before eternal darkness.
a makeshift wanting, the making of candles, wax like a face melting. it harrows the skin or flesh of it. practicing smiles in the mirror of some unwanted backwards unknown grasping.
like a bottle of fire poured out.
like an arc perpetuated.
the tiny teeth of it biting.
unmooned, wandering vagabond. desolate whistling mongrel hoping. you limp after it tumbling into a sea or palace. it soothes the burning with a bitten tongue.
the crystals of geometry suspended achingly, a conspiracy of monsters eating the afterbirth. a forehead menace, a penetration of unbelievable susceptibility. you torpedo your phalanx into an onslaught of jettisoned recalcitrance.
all hope dances shimmering & forgotten. the long escalator carrying a basket of rotten eggs. your mouth, your mouth.
& the blackness of it a reverberating unconjugated verb.
today you held it all in one small palm. where the lines of your hands met when they fell folded together lopped off at the wrist.
the edge of it, the stark delineation & what came after. hot searing lion's breath. a mamed sequel to something that never was.
breath held, punctuated.
a laugh. a ragged exhalation extinguishing crossed stars. with tears in them. folded in half carelessly without expectation.
the jagged corpselike landscape with craters eclipsed by no light.
the vaunted ceiling with dust and plastic glow-in-the-dark laughter, some number of candles on a cake.
you purse your lips over a star that has just stopped shining.
every step is a stair.