Surrounded.

Trying to kill inside. Trying to go inside. Trying to run away from the ground. The sky is always trying to escape, to find a new way of making people smile, and throw them to an unseen circle of silence, because noise is not here. Well, I guess so. At least you are here, so maybe there is noise. Oh no! Wait, I am the noise. Are you my echo? 

I can’t feel the creak of the stars that chase me like I was a murderer. I am not. I guess I am not. You didn’t kill the outside, but the inside. I can see your organs completely sutured and burnt and turned into sparks. The sparks I see in this moment. I see you.

I’d like to find a new tree to know that other trees exist. I don’t own that certainty yet. I would like to create another spark circle made of chalk. I want to scream and say it’s not you. But it’s you. It’s your inside. My inside is now destroyed.  Lend me yours, please.