That’s the thing with fantasy. The alternative is too much for me. No matter how sharp the knife is that slits my throat. To face the window is just too bold. That’s the tragedy of fantasy. To be sabotaged by redundancy. Once worlds collide I’m left alone.
And I would let you pick my brain. And I would let you eat my balls. I would only fight myself. Because I could win Best Actor. If I could not break character. Because this is unspeakable. It breaks my heart to hear your knife fall.
That’s the thing with reality. There’s nothing that I have to have. No matter how much dust I’ll lay. Life comes my way. As binding as my very name. I can’t pretend life’s truth away. The mountain breaks upon my name.