Trip Mckenzie and the power of his hands.

Get the fuck away from me.

Stars traverse my fingers,

Fingers over eyes.

Eyes filling with stars.

That is what I hope for at least.

Get the fuck away from me and let me fill my head with stars.

A head filled with the cosmos,

All that there is vast held between the walls of my skull.

Everything inside.

Left outside only what is not.

Not a part of everything.

But instead, you continue to be there.

Blocking my star flow.

Maintaining the emptiness inside my head.

Whilst everything, outside, distant, apart.

You, I hate you.

Your hands covering my eyes.

Not protecting me, hiding me.

Ashamed, afraid.

Worse.

Disinterested.

Disinterested in my emptiness.

Disinterested in their surfeit of existence.

Disinterested in all and nothing.

Can't you tell that I want to be alone.

Alone as a part of all.

Get the Fuck away from me.

Remove your fingers from in front of my eyes.

I see now. There are no stars to be found in them.

Those were just the first flashes of blindness.

Blind to though, feeling, inspiration and beauty.

The great numb blind.

I might say the words, understand me.

I might say those words.

Beg, plead, pray for numbness.

Bt there is no sincerity.

They only reach so far, never so deep as my heart.

My heart cries out 'love or bust'

It rejects you nihlism and I adore it for that.

It embraces the futitily of it all and runs with it.

As far as it can.

When it falls down it whispers to futility, held tight in its arms

'You can be anything you want. You can be hope, joy, prpose, life. Everything.'

Take my fingers away from my eyes.

There is no need to hide, I can be anything I want.

I can be the stars, I can be everything.

Come back to me.