The Stars

What's the plan? Lay on the floor and stare at them stuck to my wall? Read 'em in the newspapers and pretend they know me? Bash my head against the bed and watch 'em circling like bullies? Let 'em tell me what's most important on todays To-Do list (maybe I'll get some work done)? Drape them over my limbs and rename myself Miss Fire Arms? Eat them raw? Pick them, dry them, allow them to nourish my skin or take a walk outside, look into the night sky and see 'em shootin' up?