a star is a type of astronomical object consisting of a luminous
spheroid of plasma held together by its own
dull, hateful gravity.
a star isn't a type of astronomical object that does not consist of a luminous
spheroid of plasma held together by its own gravity.
its own gravity is someone else's gravity.
a star is a type of being unbeknownst to us consisting of a
luminous spheroid of plasma held together by its own gravity.
a star is a type of anonymous object consisting of a luminous cube
of liquid held together by its own weak nuclear force (ungravity).
a star is a dramatic entity.
plasma is held together by its own gravity.
luminous cube of liquid
spheroid of plasma held together by its own gravity.
a star is
a star by its own gravity.
astronomical objects of a luminous nuclear star.
a luminous spheroid of plasma gravity hologram hologram hologram hologram.

noun

1. this end is only a new beginning, the man at the podium affirms. a better place, a new adventure, is waiting for all of us when we pass on. i care not for that, watching my family's stony faces. there is a terrible wrenching where my stomach used to be. it's name is guilt.

2. i haunt my own home for the next several days, the next several weeks, the next several months, the next several years. i watch over them, trying to pay back their kindness from a past life. there is a pull where my chest used to be. it's name is obligation.

3. a man comes to be, insubstantial. rid yourself of this burden, he says. you need not be their keeper. they have forgiven you long before your passing.

4. i am free, i am free, i am free.

h.f.m.

noun

1. you think you know what i am? you know nothing.

2. 'crazy,' you mutter, strapping me in white with buckles and soothing words of false promise. 'delusional,' you whisper, bolting the door of this padded room and leaving me behind with the echoes of your footsteps. 'formidable,' you admit, in the quiet of your thoughts as tendrils of fear take root. at least you have one thing right.

3. are you listening? i am the end of all things. you cannot hope to contain me. i see all, i know all, i am all. there is nowhere i cannot escape to track you down. there is nowhere you can hide. i will find you.

4. it is written in the stars. my rise, from the ashes of this prison that smells of antiseptic and lemons and sickness. my *******, of this disintegrating world and all others. my fulfillment, of all and every purpose. you will bow. you will all bow. nothing will be as before.

5. i am everything. i am the world. i am you.

h.f.m.

adjective

1. i never asked to be like this, consumed utterly. when i run out of ink i dip my quill in my own veins and scratch out beautiful, ethereal, unutterable words in crimson. passion and pain are interchangeable in my mind, each one bleeding into the other and through each other.

2. words forge my palace and my prison. i compose poetry and story and power, like a creature possessed. my pen flies across the page, like it has a mind of its own.

3. i run out of space on the page in front of me, filling my notebook, filling innumerable napkins at various cafés with half-formed thoughts and unintelligible scribbles. i ink 3am inspirations and epiphanies on my skin, up and down my arms, a living testament to my obsession, my mania.

4. i must move mountains and i have a teaspoon for a *****.

h.f.m.

adjective

1. i wonder what you think when you look at me with those oh so perfect sweet eyes. do you think what a monster. do you think i am seeing a legend in the making.

2. we all bleed the same color when the thin armor of our skin in cut and parted. the pain is only temporary. everything is temporary. but this blood is such a vibrant red.

3. the other day you lay on the damp grass in the school field wondering aloud why the people could be so cruel, why the sky was so covered in smog, why the world was so cold, why, why, why. wouldn't we all like to know.

4. this is all we are. pathetic creatures who don't know what we have until it's gone.

5. they call me bitter. they call me cold. they call me hollow. i am merely a more honest one of them.

6. and do not forget— you are just like me. you too have no soul.

h.f.m.

noun

1. the scent of after-rain and earthy vanilla saturate the pages of the time-worn books piled around me like my very own wizard tower. multiloquent magician that i am, weaving words with merely my will and a quill, i cannot help but think that the smell itself is its own kind of strange and wonderful magic.

2. the sound of faint bass through headphones hanging from around my neck twines through the counter-melody looping in my head and is like my own background music. life is a movie-set and in every recording there is a harmonious strain picked up by the mikes with no discernible source. i am my own hero in this one.

3. the taste of mint on the tip of my tongue as i inhale the perfume of my garden reminds me of tree-shadows under noon-day sun, or creeks trickling through boulder fields. sparrows nestle on my collar bones, tickling my throat and filling my mouth with the summer-dust flavor of feathers.

4. the sight of a sweet shop or a library or a craft market or a street busker sends an effervescent thrill across my shoulders, seeing the pieces of the puzzle that makes up my art, on display for the world.

5. the feel of a pen in my hand is akin to being touched by the divine, with the power of pure creation at my fingertips. a world of my own making unrolls before me. it is an ever-evolving, stirring, dynamic creature of ink that is singing singing singing to my soul.

h.f.m.

noun

1. sharp teeth, fluttering hands, heart of a dying star— icarus himself could not imagine the heights you have climbed or your glorious, blazing fall. your bones are burning, your bones are ash, scattered across this never-place between life and death and eternal limbo.

2. you're permanently damaged, but it's fine, you're fine. you can always expect a myriad of scars to accompany the trauma. it's not like it's anything new, either. at least if you burn you might be able to take this unkind world down with you.

3. the inferno surrounding you dances with deadly beauty. and as we all know, beautiful things are lethal.

4. you understand you are a liability?

5. you don't want to go back to that dark place in your mind again. it would be better to be mere cinders.

h.f.m.

noun

1. i will always be afraid.'bold, heroic, daring...' these are words to describe another. despite this, i will never shy away from myself. i may not be brave, but i am honest.

2. have you ever found a poem that touched you, brushed your very soul, and sent shivers across your skin? inexplicably, indisputably, a dust-spark alights gently in your lungs. inhale, fire. exhale, smoke.

3. flames on my tongue like a shakespearean sonnet, embers on my lips searing like birdsong. i am too terrified to speak. for you, i would.

4. i am finally doing something right.

h.f.m.