From birth to death we are constantly evolving constantly growing and weaving our selves into the lives of other people like an entanglement of stars in the night sky. But life isn't like a star or the ocean or anything else we compare it too. Life and all it's complexities cannot be compared to a single entity but rather a mosaic of the fragmented stain glass that is the human experience.

Look Both Ways Before Crossing the Street
by Winston Lee & Enigmuse

Thoughts: they careen through my head like
cars in the midst of rush hour. I search for
one car in particular. My head is the foundation

of an unconstructed civilization, and I find myself
to be a tourist in the depths of my own mind. I
know all too well how easy it is for others to get lost

in the enigmatic chaos that is my head but I won’t
lose you. I am nothing, compared to the blinding lights
and insistent, blaring sounds, all warring for your attention.

I wander the streets with the sad, distant thought
that maybe I’ll glance up and find your headlights
slicing through the grey overcast. I’d even settle

for the looming red glow of your pretty, quiet
tail lights. But I know you’re long gone and your
lights are long out. The sad and beautiful part about

my mind is that I’m trapped here. And I believe I’d
still be searching for you, even if I didn’t want to. I’m
am a slave to my own thoughts, I am in love

with my mind’s creations. And while I’m well aware that
you are but a figment of my infinite imagination, I will do
everything I can to continue to believe in you.

I am merely a second of time, while you’re the hours
the days and the weeks; I am only for a moment and
you seem like an eternity. The people I pass on the street

know something I don’t - everyone seems to have
figured out how to live with their demons, while mine
like to play keep-away with my sanity. They look a lot like

you. Every time you cross my mind it sounds a lot like
contorting metal and the shrieks of pedestrians. I suppose
we’ve got a lot in common with a car crash.

I think I'm torn between who I was and who I want to be.
Trapped in purgatory just behind the exit.
I'm stuck in a room with no windows, only doors, none of which I have the keys too.
Somedays I'm so close to getting through one of them. Maybe the key is hidden under a door mat in someone else's subconscious or maybe just beneath my feet.

I'm sitting here  trying to relive everything you've ever said to me
Hoping you're doing the same but knowing I cross your mind as as often as last nights homework.
You belong to me in the same way the rocket ships belong to the moon. I've never had the courage to land so I stay in orbit hoping your gravity pulls me in.
I've learned that people can never  really belong to people and We throw around the word love like its a mythical creature that's always just out of our reach.
I realized I'm in love with the tiny broken prices that seem to fall off of you when you walk.
And Your words are earthquakes and I'm a house of cards.
I've accepted that you'll never truly belong and I'll spend the rest of my life trying to get to a place that doesn't exist

I can never call just one person home because homes decay over time and if you're not careful they'll collapse on you.

You taught me that the difference between a house and a home was who you belonged to and I'm still trying to figure out how I could belong to no one and everyone at the same time.

I've spent my entire life in houses with unstable foundations
And more than a few of them have caved in on me
Trapping me in the dysfunctional rubble.

Humans have a bad habit of destroying what keeps them safe like natural disasters and I now understand why they name hurricanes after people

I've learned to live in the open because the night sky is a lot stronger than any roof or "I love you" will ever be

I don’t consider myself a bad person. Its not like I’m a ****** or axe murderer or something horrible like that, but who I was and who everyone thought I should be didn’t always line up. I was made up of many different people. I never thought I had a fixed personality.  To quote Walt Whitman, “I contain Multitudes.”

I don't want someone that just makes me happy
I want someone that makes me feel a spectrum of emotion
I want to feel happy when I'm with them
I want to feel sad when I'm not
I want to feel jealous when they're with someone else
I want to feel scared when I think about loosing them
I want to feel safe in their arms
But most of all I just want to feel.

I won't compare this love to planets,
the universe, or the stars
in the night sky
Because this love is not beautiful
This love is not harmless
It's cruel and senseless
Like a natural disaster
Leaving behind a million shattered pieces
That I know have to put back into place.

There once was a girl who only existed
Hanging on to only the threads of life
Her world was painted with shades of grey and seldom illuminated
Her dry existence began every morning with a sigh so deep that she almost inhaled the stars in the sky
She lived each day as if she'd have a million more and nothing she ever did would make a dent in the hood of the broken down lemon of a car that she called a life.
But you see this girl, this poor girl, saw the world for what it was a spectrum lifeless grey hues
But she also saw the technicolor beauty in every building animal and vibrantly clothed stranger.
There once was a girl who only existed because she saw no other reason to go beyond that
she found out just how easy it is to find your self slipping into the sink hole we call living that opens under our feet when our legs feel weak, our heads start swimming and our thoughts start to get so heavy that they begin to weigh us down like anchors out at sea
There once was a girl who only existed, nothing more than an apparition in her own home haunting her friends and family.
Alive and breathing but not much else she hovers though the days months and years like a spirit in purgatory because she knows that life's greatest obstacle is time.
You see, time has it's hand around everyone's neck slowly gripping harder and harder until all the life has been squeezed out of us and all that's left is a shell like an empty tube of toothpaste.
They tell you life is short but for some people it's the longest thing they'll ever do.
As humans we're taught to never waste our time but what if the secret to truly living is hidden in the seconds, minutes, and hours we've let slip through our fingers. What if the only way we can truly feel alive is to let all the urgencies of life die.

We lived by the street lights and loved under the moon.  
We went to fast grew up to soon
We would spend our nights crazy and obscene
Fighting against the misuse of the word "teen"
Because when we grew up we knew nothing would ever be like what it seemed.

"No strings attached" turned into one big string attached to my heart that you pull and yank at relentlessly even when you're not there
And  it's not fair that you feel nothing
And I feel pain
It was just a game to you
it was real to me.
And now all I can do to not feel the pain
is lie and say it doesn't matter
When in reality it matters a lot for some stupid reason I can't seem to discover  
This is dumb, all this effort for what?
So I can force feed myself the same ******* about how "it's a lesson I learned" to lessen the hurt
but it never works and I never learn
And I am always being pulled by those ******* strings

We throw the word love around like a bad game of catch but I'm here to tell you that love is not a ball that we can toss around in the yard after dinner but rather a fragile glass sphere that more often than not hits the ground leaving us to clean up the shattered mess others have left behind.