To speak her name
is to let the syllables
fall from your mouth in a prayer
of perfect love and desire
to gaze into her eyes
is to fall into eternity
and see all that
is beautiful about heaven
and feel all the temptations
forbidden even in hell

to dream of her lips is a dream
that makes the gods tremble
and the devils heart ache
her skin is made of the lost pages
of soft lust written from the blood
within the heart of fairy tales

she is the magic of witchcraft
and the witchcraft of wonder
she lives under the sun
and above the night
she is the wish of every star
longing to be beautiful

in all of mans imagination
nothing could be as lovely or as sweet
as to have her name fall
from your mouth in every breath
and to have the prayer
of perfect love and desire
wrap around your very heartbeat

People   come
And people go
Some  turn into  friends
Some turn into foes
Some stay for years,
Some even more
But some may
Leave you lost in hopes.*

Yet all we need,
Is to learn and know,
What once comes,
will one day go.
And that we need
To go with the flow,
Letting go
What is no more.

I live in a vacuum.
I exist in a fundamentally
misunderstood airspace
inhabited only by a
lonely soul
who is
shouting and stammering
senseless pleas,
thinking,
"Who can this awful,
lonesome creature be?"
Never realizing,
"Oh,
it's me."

I've been asked so many questions by these dreams.
My reality, my ideas are being questioned.
What is the world?
It's all that's around me.
What is the world?
It's everyone and everything.
What is the world?
It's what I see and feel?
Is that what your world is?
I... think so.

Who are you?
I'm Johnny.
Who are you?
I'm an artist.
Who are you?
I'm the pilot, The Third Child, the poet, the unwanted man.
Who are you?
That is me! What do you want from me?
Who are you?
I'm... I hate myself.
Is that who you are?
I... don't know.

Why do you write?
Because it helps me relieve myself of my feelings.
Why do you write?
Because I need to share my artistry.
Why do you write?
Because I want people to notice me.
Why do you write?
Because I want to be loved!
Why do you write?
I just want love.

Why?
Because I'm alone.
Why?
I hurt myself.
Why?
I hate myself.
Why?
I DON'T KNOW!
Why?
I... I...

What is this world to you?
It's pain, it's emptiness.
You probably just made yourself think that.
Everybody hates me.
You probably just made yourself think that.
I hate me.
You probably just made yourself think that.
Everything is terrible, I hate it all.
You probably just made yourself think that.
You... You're lying to me!
You probably just made yourself think that.
I don't know what's real anymore.

That's no issue. Take some time.
Your friends will help you understand reality sooner or later.