..
I long for an ideal love,
But I cannot spin on a reel,
Tape myself with magnetic
Energy, that lights up rooms.

I pine for an ideal love,
But I cannot enter a screen
That flashes imaginary truth
In dimly, dear lit theatre halls.

Why is pain so real, so concrete?
Why is joy so abstract, illusory?

I ache for an ideal love,
More actual than godly stars,
Lovers living within golden light,
Always faithful, printed on film.

*Why is isolation so universal, so dark?
Why do only movie idols glow, spark?