My wounds bleed colors and I explode into galaxies. Get a canvas that can contain my flamboyance and keep a bottle of champagne by your side to drink up your masochism. I want you to paint your own portrait and paint a smile of a thousand suns contrasting with the background, which I want to be an embellished sky. As I drift into the further, give into the bottomless void, I want you to look at that very portrait and remind yourself that I reside in you. I dwell in your art, I dwell in your muse, I dwell in your colors, I dwell in the starlit sky, I dwell in your tears that you are going to let slip; so don’t let those slip. You can shack up in the bewitching occlusion in an alcoholic haze of the night and I want you to wake up to someone, who’d be your coffee.
So, look at yourself in the portrait and find me but find a solace to help you break the melancholic engulfment.
I am descending to a different dimension, the one without you; from where I could be one of the stars of your portrait and we shall be together clairvoyantly; let eternity mock us.