Explosions

anatomy

Tonight is such a night to mix smoke with stars; to stimulate the explosions of toxin and color igniting in his brain.

To wish away any form of him that might still be shadow-lurking behind his irises. Air is stale, but not unwelcome, and the dark seems as if to cancel out the sound of his lungs.

And it hurts, so he tries to blink it away, clicks the fire another time in his hand. The flame lights up his face, reflects in the broken parts of him – the parts missing—

And he can name all the molecules that used to make up – Every atom of every atom. And tell you where each hair used to fall, where each eyelash kissed skin, where each missing piece of his own self used to be found.

He bites his lip and the light goes out, the wind catching strides with his breath. On such a night where one misses another soul so much; tonight, he wishes that he smoked…