Oh, Leroy..

sometimes, i shoot stars. i stalk them first, watch every night, whisper my wishes to the wind. she carries them to my prey. I wait. she does not return. i am angry. it always winds up this way. i take the fire in my lungs and scream bullets into space. time. space. time. space. time. its so beautiful when the stars squirm about in the sky, dodging my wrath. Oh, but i get them. And they fall. And i catch them on my tongue and swallow my own deceased dreams, allowing them to seep into my bloodstream. The heat warms my frozen fingers and I. Make. Art. From. Pain. their pain and my pain. their pain. my pain. their pain: my pain.