I am not a monster.

My veins are the same

purplish hue as yours.

Pricked by the same needle,

an arrow can penetrate

my body, soul escaping

my still-beating heart.

I cling to your words.

I want to know your soul,

your deepest insecurities,

the smallest bits of joy.

I want to be in love.

The universe is a gallery,

each star a mosaic of art,

colliding and combining

to create beauty;

a masterpiece;

you.

I could look at you for eons.

***

I am not to be perceived

by capitalistic powerhouses.

Life is not a final boss,

requiring each day

to serve as a minigame,

collecting coins and

jumping blocks until

I reach the Bowzer.

I live for myself,

the sole goal of

collecting knowledge

and seeing stars

until my final breath,

at which I can say my life

felt complete once I knew

that every single person

I met had smiled.

I will not live by

checking boxes off a form,

stats gathered frequently

on if I'm living it right.

Because there is no right.

There are only idealistic fantasies

that maybe if I run fast enough,

I could one day hope to reach.

There is the rustic murkiness

of yesteryear attempting to

snatch its claws on my soul.

It will not win.

This game of mine

may not be multiplayer,

nor do I have the cheat codes,

but I am having fun,

I am exploring the world,

and I will not listen—

never listen—to you saying

that I am playing it wrong.