He’s non compos mentis; athree legged dog hungry for a run. There are stars that you can’t chase; those are what he went after. Day after day, night after night. What did he want? He never knew; If only he could get his hands on one. The universe is filled with such things, one as useless and charming as another. It’s the chase that had him. He knew nothing really matters and it made him mad. In nonchalance, he found a way. To give something a purpose, a meaning so fickle that neither lasted. They didn’t fade either. With eyes wide open, engulfing the star studded skies, the chase goes on every fucking night.