Some stars are always around; some only come out at night. I could see the moon in each pressing moment. Scars/Stars = marks on expanses of Space. [Open wound/living flesh.] The tiny things that weigh down the pockets and the brains.
Weight. Mass. The colossal burden of ourselves. Love > love (lower case L) I'll take the Pleiades, please. Open bar. Bar none. Take my tabs on the heavens. We're only made of Carbon, after all.

You've got to give Man that space in the back of his head. He'll hold himself together. (All in due time) Wouldn't you laugh if you knew the secrets he never told you! Tiny hair follicles out at the roots. Dive home. Dry heave. The dust around here came from all the different women who came before me and is indecipherable from mine. [[Skin cells/living cells. Four walls that make up atimeline/crime scene. Jail cells. Trapping histories. A laboratory and an autobiography housed in the same place.]] Your exes make me sneeze. Oh, the indecency of it all! Oh, the lovers we've swept away! [He wasn't good at cleaning before because he wasn't ready to let that past go.] Slough off. Atmospheric particles. Accumulation. Repel. Hazardous.

My planetary system:
Particles of dust orbiting the Sun, reflecting its rays. The cause of zodiacal light.
Dust in a comet tail. Interstellar dust between stars, the cosmic lint.
Wiggle your fingers. Diffuse nebulae.

Two small, too small bodies. Two atomic hearts that beat when they're told. Heavenly bodies. We orbit. Eclipse. Call it "expulsion." My aurora borealis/explode onto the scene. No one questioned the curve of Andromeda's hips. Blazes like a woman in your skies. "Ruler of Men"/immortalized in the stars. What a constellation!

Eyes and a faucet frame (though I've painted over dust before.) Goose neck down wrap wrath dip deep dig. Buy Jupiter! Nothing so sweet goes in (or out). Scour it all. I seep into the cracks. I am of good humor, but then, there are only four. [Sanguine.] We fall feverish. I'm just doing my time. Biding. Abiding by. He has to remind me to wipe things down first. Bits of me & bits of you swirled together on the floor. It's a little bit frightening, and not entirely sanitary.
"Don't do it." "You, too." Well, you've got an apparent magnitude.
Collect what you need to. I'll bring the mop.

Your mouth hangs open and sometimes I want to put things in it. Things fly into it. And out.