Extract the blood, the metaphor for this euphoric movie I had directed each night under the fall of night, alone. The film began to develop as the bottles began to pile and thus I began to envision these delusions which I lust would become a reality. We were a movie. Especially when your smoke filled my mouth and you fed me love off worn keys. Made me hazy it smelt so gentle it burned so numb. Tacky hands rode my skin, engraving scars of diamonds. My ego erupted; became so ******* rich. Illusion said I could buy your love but your eyes were guilty of unfazed. Debuts don’t faze millionaires, we just look like more money. Millionaires don’t even watch our movies.