My delusions take me further.
Why am I alone?
I cannot create the world for someone else.
I cannot make another believe in this fantasy world, it’s mine, bittersweet in my beautiful solitude.
Every mundane form that occupies my space is god and I live in heaven on earth.
The cold air freezes my tears to my cheeks; diamonds, the heaviness in my heart is manifest in precious gems.
And each tear is exquisite, and my cheeks are rosy from the winter air… my face is painted by the wind and by my heart, the wind and my heart are inseparable.
What are the chances that I can survive in my disillusionment?
Today I feel like I could die, from neglect, isolation …the purple haze in my head.
-Punk!
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