I am nothing more than a young pretender.
Existentialism swims like a proud poison in my head.
In my eyes I can see nothing but juvenile metaphysics.
I tried to **** them, I really did.
But my darlings are my all, my everything, my universe.
They are my sun and my moon and my stars.
They make my emotions change like the fleeting seasons.
They make my head spin like the crooked earth.
They make my heart beat with the force of an imploding star.
These are darlings that I cannot ****.
I write poems that my idols would despise.
For this is not a New Vision that I am creating.
This is nothing at all.