I´m in love with myself.
Wait.
Wrong concept.
I exploit myself.
I hide.
I despise.
Oh.
I despise humans.
Yes.
Again.
Why?
Did I ever demand differently?
I don´t love you.
I don´t love.
I don´t even know what that feels like.
I do like beauty.
I feel extended being surrounded by maidens, raving elegancy.
If this scares you.
If I make you feel not loving.
Not expressing.
Not tripping.
Not breath-taking.
If I am not mindtrapped
– You know what, cut that shit. I feel like I am, and it´s not just about you, get yourself back in line before you fade away in your squirting brightness, the emotional doormat of your alienated unsteadiness and I don´t fucking love it.
So fuck off, leave me alone. I do.
(hissing blackness)
My ego? No it´s not. But I guess I was never that wrong about my carnal empathy. Confusing. Interesting.