The things I say, in this ebony, my black and twisted reality, the glistening, is as much catharsis as it is denial. Fucked up as it seems, I bleed. In the mirror, clad in black, pale of face and a flatness in the gaze, there is a puzzle. Who, it seems to ask. Why?
I don't get that. I truly don't. Love or hate it there's never an answer. Just...exist. Drink and drown the ask.

Roads rendered in rainbows, the wishes of shooting stars, somewhere along the paths of what used to be and where you are, it's truth that here is now. I can touch stones, feel heat, burning bright and the purr of Lincolns and Cadillacs, the turn of the leaves a certitude. Belief in bent metal, the twist of the cosmos, a broken slash mirrored. That reflection of yours has never been clearer.

You're such a fool