stars are falling from my ceiling
i am becoming duller.
softer.
there are galaxies on my bedroom floor
I step on their bodies,
unaware of the harm I do.
there is stardust inbetween my toes
and i feel it in every step I take.
i miss the comfort of not being alone.
i keep scraping my knees,
and it hurts when i try to pick myself up
but i do.
just to look at the
stars
which i find beautiful but
when i look at them in awe,
i seem to forget some of them
are actually dead.
dead but getting credit for being alive
just to my naked eyes.
i assume everything is fine.
i do not ask
nor think.
would just rather accept.
it’s just easier that way,
to think seeing is believing.