i cant really remember how long i've been lying here. i dont really want to move, either. this room has timeless magic to it. a timeless beauty. a little like the beauty of my lover. he is mysterious and engulfing and his love fills me with timelessness.
but, nothing seems real. the chatter from the people walking by underneath my window and the echoes of a woman's stilettos as she sharply hurries by, they arent real.
just like my life doesn't seem real.
my life is nothing but a dream of this timeless room that i've built in my mind. the walls are filled with celestial posters but they offer me no particular comfort. and so, im just going to carry on, uneasy in my riposte, as bowie gazes down at me from above my bed, with the smoke of his ziggy stardust cigarette blurring his face.
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