The Stars' Boy

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLLCtN0jZDc&feature=youtu.be

I need to bring the stars back to earth,

he thought.

I need to find the supernovas in someone's eyes.

I need to learn how to inhale stardust,

the kind that lives in treehouses at midnight.

My fingers burn, he thought,

they ache, because I miss so. badly.

the fire of fusion.

I miss the gravity of being nothing,

of being flames

just.

like.

oxygen.

Because, he thought,

identity is bullshit

individualism means nothing

when you are burning

in the most perfectly terrible

blindness you have ever seen.

You are not you

because you are the Universe.

You are this explosion of light,

this star, that for one. brief. moment

is everything you have ever lived for

and everything you have ever loved.

And this boy had loved a city,

he had fallen for the way spiked black

buildings cast shadows into the sunset,

he had fallen for its heartbeat

under the cobblestones.

It was a scar on his skin,

a map, one that he ran tender fingers over

because to him

it was more beautiful than any human

ever could be.

And he needed to bring the stars to earth

because they were the only other thing

that he loved, the only thing that made him feel alive:

this tragic, pathetic, glorious boy

with dreams too big for the reality of his hands.

What I need, he thought, what I need is to learn

how to burn here.

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