forever as non-material mute words in your screen.
Living on graphic marvels, you should be blind
to the black holes, torrences and flashes in my mind.
How to amaze you with transcendent skies,
all that beauty open to your real eyes?
No more haunted by you, the fever was long ago over,
still grasping for the image ever since it died.
Better to cherish the pain, belong to my personal nowhere,
than dully exist after ecstatic delirious life.
Call it my "self-torment" and "needless gloom",
instead of purposeless prefer to feel doomed.
The addiction to you won't last forever,
has to be replaced with something else to crave for.
I took you for the perfect, hence pervert delusion,
but imagery and world don't undergo fusion.