The waves of a half-empty ocean (of sorrow) crash against me. Satellites collide and I struggle for a breath – this pain isn’t romantic/poetic. It hurts, it hurts like collapsed dreams and broken bones. There are no pretty words to describe it. It’s like a rapture in the sky, a big black hole pulling me in, while I’m screaming with aching lungs. This pain is ugly. It’s the kind of pain people are afraid/ashamed to talk about. But it hurts so much.
It’s the kind of pain that leaves streaks of sadness, despair and tears on the sky and on us. On our skin, on our hearts. It corrodes us, it eats away on us, it burns us.
The sun becomes too bright, burning inside of us – a fire that won’t cease. A million thoughts all at once. Sirens sing; unanchored and unafraid we drift between reality and dreams. Voices scream from the void, but we have wings now. Un-burning wings. Like moths we are drawn to light, we become light and burn white for days. We burn, twirling in chaos, running too fast for miles without stopping, we burn and burn until there is nothing left, but white ashes.