almost all that people call love is either lie, dreams or prejudice.
something they called a day, saw in a movie, preferred to believe.
i hardly ever met in the real life them, who could actually inspire me.
with that something, wrecked from the deepest within and further.

i would say i loved many. but that is also a way to manipulate the truth.
all who i loved are now with me, and those who considered it love instead,
now are suffering from a somehow self-made ptsd, which is even sadder.

when i was younger and not so loyal to my own royalty, i did not think.
i did not feel. it was nice to have someone here and now for a night.
without names, feelings, future, suggestions, ambitions and hopes all on.
now i would feel so bad for myself to let someone feel something it is not.
and all the money, hotels, glasses on the floor, clothes on the tables..
that was so morbidly fun and crazy, but my time now is not to waste.
anymore.

maybe i became older.
maybe he made me learn something for myself.
after all the wars, all the damnation, all the hell on us.
even now i still lean on him, when i can not have my way i just hit it.

i know exactly how to switch us both.
sometimes i like it. sometimes i do not.

but i feel desperate for humans, who can not tell images from real.
i say, almost all of them can not be saved.

he once told me, how funny the word unsuitable is.
we never were, i never fit in where i came to pray for life.
but.
how much humans try to find someone suitable,
where not even one of the every part is to ever fit.

how they do it? how they fool it so far?

that was a rhetorical question for Friday.
i am getting back to my mansion now.
...
he says, it does not matter.
whether you could or you could not.
cos it only matters if you did it or not.

and i say, yeah.
i get my devil better, than anyone ever had.