oynikay

The sky is full of distant stars, Specks in a void, small scattered flaws, Each a world, perhaps holding life, Societies living in strife. Dust floats by these communities, Unsure of what it quite believes. Bits of rock, dirt, and shining quartz, Materials of different sorts. Time is endless without a clock, Planets abound and one lone rock. Eons pass, and yet dust still drifts, Estranged from its kind, not once missed.

He wears beads like a woman, hanging on to a delicate femininity like it could vanish in a mirror. Counting the seconds and the little porcelain cats on the shelf ever shrew and silent. He was long due for a makeover. Face paint wasn't enough to mask his flaws But he would like the garish colors anyways. Lime green, lemon yellow, cocktail pink Maybe then he wouldn't feel so foreign. The floor is covered with a fine layer of dust and locks of hair, ashy in his hands. Glistening damp eyes, steady as a regiment, they can't ever compare to his new sanguine necklace. The cats are still smiling when the fluorescent light flickers on

White linen folded on a chair a cheerful number lined with lace Something to take out to sea and return at night with rosy laughter tucked in the hem.

I peeled off a sticker and the paper below was starspun gossamer Pink like a princess Porous too, and my fingers slip through I pull out a rainbow, fling it about It covers the walls and a hall opens up The stairs get narrow, so does the room My foot steps out into empty space When the world spins around I resist the urge to vomit. What is this nonsense. All I wanted was this dumb sticker.