He needed a shell, some off chance secret to hide, or maybe a little bit of luck. Tiny and ambiguous he bloated his self worth, made himself more robust than he should have been. He wanted quick validation. Please, he whispered like a little flea, realizing the monotony of life. Stars were infinite, or so they seemed. Mirrors cut him and his frail pride. They reflected the stars. He wanted to go. His head was falling off, bloody vertebrae was showing. A nearly headless being left after nothing was or were. The sprinkling of sand on a glossy surface. Matte and shine. Manically stabbing something. The two were inevitably intertwined in a world so far apart. Discerning the correlation of ideas made him ill. Barely comprehending anything, he fell. Could one embrace the emptiness that was left? Dark shapes manifested. Pointless. It lay there looking at the sky, muscles relaxed. “The stars are shining so brightly tonight, I wonder, if ever, when I’ll get to join them.”
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