Dear Michael,
I've been watching you for some time now,
and I know why you love them so much
but... please stop writing about the stars,
for they have never even thought
about writing about you.
Love Always,
The Moon
For as long as I can remember, I always found myself waiting for the night to wage war on the day- the silence of darkness to replace the sounds of the sun. It's weird though, I have such a love-hate relationship with nighttime, cause' it's often where my most glamorous dreams are created as well as my emptiest and most fearful moments? It's confusing as hell, Trust me I know this! But in the weirdest sort of way, I love the helpless anxiety I get when approaching that coin flip at sundown.
SIDE NOTE: Q&A (taken from Michael's diary on July 1, 2009, sometime during the night)
Q: Why the fuck is Pluto not a planet anymore?
A: Well, according to the new definition, a full-fledged planet is an object that orbits the sun and is actually large enough to have become round due to the force of its own gravity. A planet must also dominate the neighborhood around its orbit. Pluto has been demoted simply because it does not dominate its neighborhood. Charon, Pluto's large "moon", is about half the size of Pluto as a whole, while all the other true planets are much larger than their moons.
If you are a person that has kept up with my writing over the years, for starters, I love you and thank you so much, but if you truly know anything about me from my writing, it's that I hate, from the abysmal corners of my stomach, I hate organized religion! But do not confuse that with me hating on any type of belief, because if that's what you think of me, then you do not quite know me. I believe too, just not in any one simplified God. I believe in family and friendship, I believe in love, in fate, and in the unknown. I believe the stars watch over me like angels, and that if I was to ever "pray" or do any begging for relief of any sort... It's the moon that I drop to my knees for.
I remember when I was younger, you know back when everything in the world was out to get us? (we all know that time, when in reality nothing was wrong and you were just a complete depressed-asshole for no reason) But as pointless and selfish as it was to act like this, things happen, and it's just a part of growing up. I would walk the streets, either alone or with a close friend, and I would watch the sky. I would literally just watch the sky, and I swear it moved in sync with my racing or fading heart beat. It was as if it knew how I was feeling and the flickering of the stars sang songs in silence that somehow fed my broken body to the moon to be fixed.
I have felt the pull of the moon on more nights than one should, like it wanted to bring me home or something? I cannot truly depict the feeling without sounding a little insane, so fuck it, here we go:
It's pull feels like death is coming for you. Death in the distance, but a death of only temporary moments, so you can remember what it feels like to be alive. The moons pull feels like the last swipe of a cutters blade, the needle to an addicts arm, the morning burn of a deep whiskey to an alcoholics chest, it is a pain capsule with no side effects besides the feeling of pure Ecstasy. The moons pull is a bloodless release of pain, and I've been addicted to the way it strangles me since the moments I left the womb and saw this hellish world we were forced to live within... and o' how beautiful every one of its flaws are.
I once would stare at the stars. I would choke myself with Orion''s belt and wonder why it's so tight. I would dream of being scooped up by the Big Dipper and being fed to the abyss of space, only to find my way back to Earth. I would stare at the stars of lost constellations and name them after people I have loved, and the ones I have forgotten. I would wish when I saw a shooting star. I would wish for it to crash into my chest so lovely and painfully.
Lately, I've been staring at the stars through the gloominess of these Rochester clouds... I just wish every light in the world would explode so I can see them more clearly, because I think their fading on me. I'm sick of writing about the stars, and I bet everyone else is just as sick of reading the words I write about the stars.
SIDE NOTE: Q&A (taken from Michael's heart at approximately 3:00 am last night,
found somewhere sketched into his valves)
Q: Do you still believe Pluto to be a planet?
A: Pluto is still a planet to me because I once believed it was as a child. I believed in many things then, that I still believe in today. And as for the fact that its size compared to the size of its moon is only double, that means that the moon in a way, consumes half of its body.... I wish our moon consumed half the size of Earth. But I also wish the moon consumed all of me.
For as long as I can remember, I always found myself waiting for the night to wage war on the day- the silence of darkness to replace the sounds of the sun. I could really use the moons pull tonight...
Dear Michael,
We've been reading your poems for some time now,
and we know you have been screaming to us for answers
but we have yet to send a reply of any sort... Sorry.
The moon lied to you when it said that we would never write to you!
We are writing to you now, just to say hello,
because we still do not have any answers for you.
You must find them on your own.
P.S. Don't blame the moon for lying to you,
it was only so you wouldn't be let down.
Love always,
Some of those lost stars.
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