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Week 22


Fuck, okay. Hear me out.
I think
You should belong in temples and shrines
Worshipped by devotees
And girls with sweet smiles.
Fallen leaves
Raising from the ground
And attaching back to the trees.
Oh, I’m sure you’ve a long list
Of admirers, a bevy of girls
Waiting in cue
Just to be acknowledged by you
Just to be seen by you,
Because you’re perfect like that.
Because you’re untouchable like that:
Fucking volatile like that.
I look up at the sky,
The sky- swirling colors of kaleidoscope,
I open my iridescent eyes,
With deep, black pupils dilating,
It’s pulsating like a heart.
And you-
Oh you!
Looking down upon us
With a halo around your head,
Proud and ostentatious
With a drink on your hand,
Capable of crushing us under your feet
And you know it.
I think I am delusional,
Maybe even tripping,
Or maybe I am simply seeing the truth.
Who knows?
I don’t fucking care
Because I like to believe that
I’m in love with a God
And not a man.

Your smile is charming,
Especially the crooked one
That makes me forget everything;
Just like the pill on my tongue.
Just like the lines on the table.
And your laughter
Oh, your fucking laughter!
Makes my heart burst.
The roses are wilting
And morphing into sunflowers.
Everything you touch segue into gold,
Now she is shining.
But you shine even brighter
Like two stars dying together.
No human has ever been so perfect,
So ethereal, so exquisite,
But I believe you’re the exception
I like to believe that
I’m in love with a God
And not a man.

I’m walking towards you,
With ravens circling my head
Like a death spiral.
I see butterflies everywhere
But when I touch them, they disintegrate.
And there is a fog, I inhale,
The flowers are pulsing
And the petals are dancing,
I see a phantasmagoria of colors
Whirling in the air,
There is a blindfold over my eyes,
And in my mind
In the centre is you
Sitting on the damned throne
With a crown of dead flowers on your head
As if you’re the King of this fucking wasteland.
I don’t know how long
Before this mirror cracks
But until then, until then
Let me believe that
I’m in love with a God
And not a man.
You’re a God, a God, a God,
And not a man.
I don’t know when this mirror will crack,
But until then, until then-

– B.