You are not regal, just a man afflicted

with a superiority complex, who knows

a little too much about psychology theory

& lucid dream-daze, shoegaze music states.

You were

melting gold, star-studded in the last one,

rockstar hair feathered out in photos, your

bones PU leather, soft skin covered by

blue denim. I am here, moving forward,

an apt paradise where you finally left

without a trace. Play your lone trick card

again, adorned with the outline of a divine

woman, one who does not question you

fucking against the pew.