What deliberate words--contrived symbols--convey
this withering dissatisfaction, this love lost and unrequited?
That I am too good to be loved,
too beautiful to be tainted by your narcissism,
too innocent to be scarred by relationship?
My heart dreams of a daily death,
ribbons of rose red, seeping into a skyline I recognize as my own face,
and it's beautiful impression makes my heart too true to be known,
too real to be understood,
and too lovely to be shared and passed over.

The power of the almighty surges through contact with a chemically induced innocence
drinking **** and alcohol, one sage experiences a heightened level of unity consciousness.