Puppet

Remember the day you opened your hand to find the entire universe standing on the tips of your fingers?

Remember how you swore you’d never let anyone take that feeling away from you?

Where did you go?

You say; it’s gone, the planets and their rings and their stars have all vanished.

And the moons?

You say; they’re all stuck in new moons these days. Too tired to shift to waxing crescents; there’s no light for them to feed off.

But they’re not the only ones that have lost their shine.

The light in your eyes has been dimmed from blinding to nul and you’ve been living in the dark since the sun set inside your pupils. You’ve been storming cloudy weather, but it’s always just cloudy; never rainy. That suffocating humidity that leaves you reeling for breath but never comes down as rain to finally get you out of your misery.

Put your hand on your heart. Press hard.

This is how you know the walls you’ve built over it were too thick. You can’t feel it beating – you can barely feel it pumping blood into your veins; and you’re turning blue at the tips to go with the blue in your soul.

I say “love”, and you hold your head over the toilet with a finger down your throat trying to forget how it tastes.

“Love”. You’re face down on the floor with a needle in your hand trying to push it out of the thick walls of your vessels.

“Love”. You’re drowning yourself in a glass of whiskey trying – just trying – to wash the memories off the walls inside your head.

But you’re failing and you can’t forgive yourself for it. The more you run, the more you order your brain to erase all the images of those times you felt like royalty; the more you hurt.

You’re vanishing along with your stars.

The mere mention of the word emotion has you running to the other side of the world like it’s a gun whose poisonous bullets you’re trying desperately to avoid. Can’t you see that they’re the same bullets that used to shoot out of you not so long ago – the same ones that brought life to the death around you many times before?

You’re wasted. You say your good intentions have all been shot to hell.

Can’t you see it’s the same hell you’re choosing to live in?

But you’re blind to all logic.

Do you remember? Do you remember when you opened your palms and you found fingers – just lines and creases – where heaven used to stand?

Remember that Earth-shattering realization that you let it all slip away?

You say; I tried to hold on with all my might.

But it’s all gone and I can’t seem to get it back.

Are you trying?

You don’t hear me.

It’s just that one word echoing inside your skull.

“Love”;

You’re pulling at the strings that keep you standing because love is a play and you’re done being dragged around by hands that aren’t your own. All you want is the final act – the one where you fall to the ground and kiss the scissors that cut you up.

All you want is to sit here. Motionless.

All you want is to sit and reminisce.

All you want is your heaven.

And if you can’t have it you’d rather not exist.