Extraterrestrial thoughts.
You only believe in your existence when something touches you. The sumptuous fabric of your clothes whispers intimidation to all those who pass you by. Sunlight grazing your skin to toss a foreign warmth your heart will never accommodate again. Your Rolex whispers the repugnant tick-tocking to remind you of the inescapable authenticity of your monstrosity.
Women's arms around walking sanctuaries, but they only embrace a void shaped in human form. You're a walking black hole, the duskiness buried within you could suffocate a scorching star and still those orbs reflect light to scintillate with every forbidden desire. You tell yourself, maybe if I pour pleasure into someone's soul, mine would witness how it feels since it can never be felt. You bestow pain among others, only because you can't handle savouring it anymore.
How do you let go of what weighs you down when you are the only gravity keeping yourself from floating?
