chemical burns.

i lost myself to my dreams tonight. i took a path that never existed, never should, never would. the universe didn’t like that, the roof of the bus stop is leaking; hot, acidic water drips slowly through the gaps. and i think, what if? what if i climbed the steps to the moon tonight?

would orion detest me? would his arrow pierce through my heart like a blunt butter knife, slicing and poking and prodding at the illusion of a strong heart?

i’m waltzing through the raindrops with each step... except i’m not.

no, i’m not.

each one splashes on my face, in my eyes, telling me to wake up, wake up, wake up! the water burns white hot, dripping and slithering down my jaw, neck, igniting the pools of my collar bones with a flame that would make hestia jealous. the stars on my neck weep, and all i have left is your alkaline love. is it enough? while you sit on the edge of your clouds, reckless, giddy, drunk, can you even spare an ounce?

is it the sun, darling? does she scorch your skin as she does mine?

the cracks in the pavement run towards me. oh, the spines i’ve shattered. a piece of paper floats more gracefully than i. zeus scoffs at me; he can put stars in the sky. he can crush living creatures with his thumb and his finger and return them to stardust. ha, something you and i have in common. haemoglobin. could he peel these stars from my skin and save my soul?

my heart aches. yours lies in a glass box in the center of the sun. beating hard, or hardly beating?