There seems to be this empty void inside of me where everything that grows and everything that dies is right there inside. It's filled with an infinite amount of space full of my thoughts and emotions and words that have never been released from their lease that holds them back by their necks, and even though it is not I who shall water the plants, it is I who will be drowned. This is the day. This is my life. When going down means going up because a loose noose cannot be sufficient enough to free the birds of paradise that have been encaged for so long. When every phone booth becomes an escape panel because invisibility and visibility aren't so different after all. It is at the highest points when the leap from ocean to ocean becomes millions of miles wide and the swim from land to land changes to baby footsteps like the game that we used to play out on the blacktops in the sun when we were kids. When the stars of my body doesn't shine because it is real and the stars in the sky glow bright bright blue at night because they are artificial. Every broken pot and plate that lies on the ground screams out into my ears as if the train ride home will never end and it hits me like the snowflakes that fall from the sky that I will never find home because it always lies within me. It is the void of empty infinite space that stretches out for miles and miles containing and holding everything in its possession and it is today - the day my life begins and ends - when the clock of yellow pages and black prints has no ending.