The words rise up like *****,
spilling from my gut,
uncontrollably escaping
my lips before I can catch them
In my outstretched fingers.

I am helpless as they slip
between the cracks
of my perfectly imperfect consciousness.

The stars cannot be expressed
the way they feel within me,
like tears that will not come
when you need them to,
and arms that reach out
with the slightest hesitation,
a stiff coldness,
a dark moment.

And I am lost without you.
How can one sit in reverence of a constant tease?
The brink of epiphany?
Like a sneeze that won't come,
even when you look at the light?

I am inches away from
the ultimate,
*******,
eruption
of existence.

It's lonely,
and those few inches make all the difference.
Yet I will strive for this encompassing vitality!
once again
a child in your arms,
fresh to the world,
yet knowing it all too well.