won't you comprehend

i was talking to a star earlier

me: i'm sick of it. if i could puke it out i would. too much. too long.

star: what is this subject you speak of?

me: i've been dragging my feet and the metal chains anchored onto it are screeching as it caress the cemented ground. the chains. they cut my ankles. but you know what, this struggle is the only thing i have to boast of, though not a soul knows. oh, i'm sure of the ideas they have. but let them contemplate on uncertainty.

star: would you care to explain that.

me: i have a gem buried deep inside my muddy heart. i alone could see that gem shine. yet sometimes, it's incandescence peeps through loose soil. audience nearby can only guess where are those silky rays coming from.

star: why don't you dig it out?

me: i'm ashamed. ironic that i call it a gem huh?

star: why don't you just throw it then? give it to someone else?

me: are you retarded or what? call yourself a star. of course i have to dig it out first right? like i said, i'm ashamed to do so. plus, without it, i'm rendered inhuman. empty. void, nothing. like a temple without an altar, without columns or poles, my body would crumble.

star: a soul?

me: no, it's not my soul. i think i've lost that. or it's rotting somewhere above those trees.

star: i do not comprehend.

me: how could you? your not human.

star: no, elaborate.

me: you know those bus tickets.

star: you are hard to follow

me: i used to collect them. they're so pretty. something about them that i can't quite put a finger on. but i never really knew how to ride a bus. unaware of where it leads, when it stops. despised its moldy, deteriorated seats, its narrow aisle, its dried smell. i would rather take the train, but if wasn't for those enchanted, retro, cool bus tickets. oh, its nobility, it's refined memories.

star: i have never rode a bus before

me: of course you haven't you dumb fuck. your a bloody star for the love of buddha. your rich, fragile, pristine, you would only dirty your polished shoes and crisp white coat. though there's a possibility that your glory would also incinerate the bus down to cosmic dust.

star: i guess your right

me: god, i wanna die.

star: pardon? have you changed our topic?

me: what topic?

star: are you feeling suicidal?

me: eww. no. i'm not that stupid. you think i'm weak and dimwitted to result to suicide? i treasure life as it is.

star: but you just said you wanted to die.

me: do i have to explain everything? anyways, i take pleasure in explaining myself. i'm a balloon. i have an impulse to soar high. higher. and a child keeps me down. i like children. they're anchors to the ground. like those metal chains. i'm tied to their little hands and bob around. but the thing is. it's sembreak. i'm so fucking bored. and there's no one there. no family. i never had any family. no friends. they are all far off to some land with their own children. and the child is gone. so i'm alone, desperate, and with an impulse to soar high. so i do. i'm light. unstable. i fly away from earth, away from reality. far above the clouds. into space. outer space. where there's no air. no water. no life. only darkness. then light. then darkness. and more darkness.

star: that's why you are here!

me: wow! you clever! duh. i'm on my way higher. maybe, even reach the sun. so that she may incinerate me into cosmic dust. like a bus. do you get it now?

star: get it? no. not quite

me: too bad then. i'll see you when i see you.

it really was a star assholes. it's not a metaphor of some person. no. acting deep is it?. and yes, i am perfectly sane.