As a rock in circulation, longing for self-revelation
In equilibrium with a world
Of green hues and ethereal blues
A smattering of milky way white
Clouding my perspective
Your presence,
a late yellow sun with a warm hello
I only see darkness
Certainly, light radiates from somewhere
The moon, surface deep with dents and craters, I
a lackluster comparison to thermodynamic creation
The energy you spawn, I merely respond
Our existence in tandem
The age of the earth
Irrelevant
Yet I revolve
and you evolve
Changing, shifting
day to night, new beginnings
A hazy sunrise and fresh dew mornings
Birthed as night gives way
Perhaps, a therapeutic realization
But stars still exist
As a hundred billion crises  
Screaming from their unnamed existence
longing to be as original as the moon
Saturn after all, has 62

Smear the lines of temporary beginnings
I’m unsure where to start
My journey goes on and on and on
but yet
I’m unsure where I start

My room contains two windows
but light only pours in through one

look down on everything intangible
"its a good thing you're pretty"

ones who love me don't know me
still unloved by those who do

if I could inject this feeling into my veins
rather than half-hearted attempts made in vain

waiting for its grip to take hold
on the other end of the phone

instead the buzzing silence
he asks me to hold

hold on, waiting
he hung up

I'm hung up

the boy sat in the grass
stars of old talked down to him
whispering into the night
"your existence is necessary"
palms pressing into the earth
he looked back up into the void and pleaded
"but is my purpose futile?"
a polite protest
the stars twinkled in response

You waste time soul searching for answers
But mine just craves meaning