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i’m supposed to find the silver linings around storm clouds, but they’re hard to find in the dark. and good god! i have a body! what a terrible idea; who gave me this? am i my father’s son? does he know? the world is so loud, and i am so tired. i keeps talking singing screaming just to spite me. am i in the wrong if i talk sing scream back? sometimes i think too hard and it gets me short of breath. i left my heart somewhere between the stars and the city lights, in every poem i have read, every song i have heard. i am made fo what ifs and maybes, an ice sculpture left in the sun, a bird with feathers just a shade out of place, headed straight to the ground instead of getting a taste of the clouds with the others. the only star in the sky not part of a myth. i am deserving of unrequitedness, of unkind words, of open umbrellas and broken mirrors. i am sitting inside an abandoned building, crumbling and desolate and barren, watching while the world passes me by, too fast for me to catch up. me and these bricks. me and this concrete. watching the blurring shades of black and white, of more or less, give or take, spend or save, stay or go. floating and stumbling through with my see-through skin and barely-beating heart, the butterflies in my heart and spiders in my veins. i am their home. i feed them coffee and self-doubt, and maybe if i don’t exist at all, i can go on and exist forever.