I think sometimes that
I could be famous.
maybe it’s the shape of
my ears or the general
disinterest in having my photo
unexpectedly taken. I have
always craved
for someone to tell me
Exactly who to be. someone
qualified. at least twenty years
experience in being above
a constant fear of rejection.
sometimes I imagine that
the bioluminescent stars
in the corner of my room
form a pattern I can understand.
become predictive.
tell me to fail
and land among them.
another bit of glowing plastic.