Summer nights drive me crazy. I feel like grabbing handfuls of moonlight and stuffing it inside of my withering body. I want to feel light disperse through my body until I explode into a million light pieces. A smattering of stars into the dark universe of nothings. I’d be broken and I wouldn't be able to be put together without golden light outlining my chipped pieces. It'd be easier to breathe anyways when you're a million pieces and so light in the air. It'd be so easy to drift away, to follow the night breeze to where the fireflies hover or where the sleeping giants cluster. It'd be much easier to picture myself as a million light pieces than this chunk of a body, heaving with despair and lethargy. I feel my body restrict and restrain, focusing on hiding the dark pieces within me. But if I explode into light, into a universe of stars no one will be able to see the charred bits of soul lying in the dark. I feel tethered, grounded to a dying rock. A dying rock that we polluted and killed and harnessed to our own whim and desires. I’m tethered to something dying and I feel myself decaying. My insides are reflecting on the outsides. Where are the stars when I needed them the most? Give me whimsy, breezy, airy, starlight magic. Let it suffocate me, let it be a shining beacon nestled in my ribcages. I don't want to be here anymore.
summer night insomnia // s.g.
