Delusions (II)


What I thought was precious metal was nothing but a cheap alloy covered by a thin layer of gold. I saw a bright river, unfolding its gentle meanders, but what was really there was a snake and its coils, lying in wait on filthy soil. I only imagined the delicate rose, never realised there was no flower, only treacherous thorns. The heartbreakingly beautiful Caravaggio never existed, there were only shadows and cracks on the wall.
The glittering stars were mere vulgar stones in disguise, actively playing a part.
I saw chemistry and feelings, obviously no more than wishful thinking.
I wanted to hold him so tight, his heart’s fire might be ignited by mine. Convince him that the sterile, sheet of floating ice was a choice we had made, not a place we needed to stay. Alas, it was an Herculean task.
There is no magic potion to free oneself of delusions, the dangerous figments of our imagination.
I saw things that were never there, I’ve only got myself to blame. And I must say I feel rather lame – now to erase the stain…

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