Stage Nine

Day 67

The sun loved the moon so much,

he died every night

to let her breathe.

I suffocated the world,

I depended on the security that tangible pleasure brought,

and later realized everything I saw, smelled, and heard

wasn’t real.

Like a spot of ink on aluminum,

my perception of reality became smudged

and almost non existent.

I soon dreamed of the sun every night,

so much

I finally became him.