The skies are star-bright to the symphonies and I hurt. I ache, I've smeared my heart on the ground gladly that the world might see its streaks and judge them art. I hardly know what they are anymore. I touch, I feel, I feel like screaming, but is it enough? Is it ever enough? Things burn. I burn. I am ashes, the grit in my mouth a stain I cannot ignore. I love, beyond myself and my means. I wrap my heart around things till I cannot remain silent anymore. I hurt, but the pain is such that it makes things worth living for. Bonfires in my eternal night.