You aren't part of nature. You breathe underwater when you get tired of flying. You start telling the truth when you get tired of lying, as you tell me I'm what you need. You're immortal, you enter portals to other worlds and you convince  me indirectly that there's no other girl, for me. Ill never understand you. You weren't born in this time. You're Ms. Sublime. I'm still waiting for my Ruuca. I guess I'm tired of that and tired of rap but when I need a candle you're my wax but you're also everything else. When it's hot, you snow, when it's dark, you glow. You're so superior. You're soft on the outside with a rough interior.  You're so out of reach to understand, I'm just a young man and my mind can stretch, but you take my mind and use it to play fetch. You make me think so hard my brain just pops as you pick up the pieces and **** my joy out of it  like a lollipop. You don't know why you're beautiful. Mystery is beautiful and painful and they're both for you.  God must have such bittersweet feelings toward you. I ask: "Ms. Sublime, I know you don't have much time but do you have any tissue?" She points up to the sky because that's where she flys when she has to cry and that's why it rained on valentines. That rain pours so heavily on my skin. She creates the rain then evaporates it. She doesn't sleep and she weeps for weeks then there is no elaboration. She takes Mother Nature and throws her into her own creation. She's blatant, and she almost kissed Satan but she was to hot for him to handle. She takes my heart and uses it as bait when she fishes from the moon as she catches things that she hates. Like normality, and fatality, and happiness, and my enjoyment. She doesn't live for anything she has no employment. And even though she can center all of the planets and turn the universe to dust, her favorite thing to do is take my silver mind and turn my brain cells into rust. She enjoys making me feel like I can't feel and every time she reels I imagine what her face looks like as I scream with more shock than an eel. I let her take me by the throat and I let her squeeze just enough to choke, and right before I take my last breathe, she tells me she loves me. And she hugs me. And she kisses my back and my shoulder, she flicks me so softly but it feels like a boulder. I ask her: "Ms. Sublime, you can do anything in the world. You can take any man by his ancestor treasure and make him feel like they're better than anyone who is alive. Why must you pick me to pick upon?" She replies by telling the cold truth when she gets tired of her heated lies. She replies by breathing under water when she no longer wants to fly.  She replies by not being a part of my nature, and telling me that I'm what she needs.