My head is this galaxy of exploding stars and swirling planets, though every glimmering star you see behind my blue eyes that lost their blue color years ago are shooting stars that long died out.

That's why when you wish on me, I can't come through anymore.

I am a walking hollow.

Somewhere between the parking lot where I stood and knew I would never smoke a single cigarette to the roof top of a house where I smoked a whole pack in a night because I thought that's what would make things better.

Somewhere between hanging on every word you say and hanging from a noose made from sketchy rope.

Somewhere between honesty and not being sure if what I'm saying is a lie.

Somewhere between "I ****** up" and "you're ****** up."

Somewhere between those places, I find myself listening to songs I usually don't and drinking chemicals I always said I wouldn't.

I'm looking for something and I put my faith in finding a person, which is unfair to whomever I choose to place it on.

The weight of the world...My world.

I got to the point where I didn't care what happened to it anymore.

I threw it in the air so now it bounces through infinite space. It's unappealing and covered in glass shards, wrinkles and scars.

I can't blame anybody for not wanting to pick it up...

But I'm hoping someone does.

If walls could talk, they would scream vile words in my face as I trace cloud patterns through volatile gray skies.

In the Summer I pray for Winter and in the Winter I pray for Summer.

I wish I could say I'm OK with Fall because it's the best of the worst, but I know when I get there I'm praying for a Spring bloom.

I always want what is furthest away from me.

Can that be my excuse for why I put distance between the people I love most?