... but as she makes my days, I love her. Unconditional surrender to the sweet intoxication of medicine. Gone are pain and sorrow. No longer can nor will these weary eyes behold what once seemed of importance. Me is not. Me is about to fade. Me will board that final flight. Soon. On darkest wings. Through heaviest skies. Rain-beaten. Wind-shaken. Far above the deepest and bluest of lakes. These itchy feet lifted up into clouds of antiseptic beauty. Gone the vermin-infested truth of an unhappy existence. Out of sight the wuthering dephts and the deserted beaches of a life once lived. All villains killed, all dragons slaughtered.

This is love. Watch that beauty play guitar, over and over again. Pray that for only one time only one of her tits might drop out. And go mad over thoughts like these. There´s just too many wishes. There´s just too many madwomen in too many attics.

Lie in bed and dream of the dark-haired beauty in her dress, as she sends her love to me. Follow each of her steps as she abandons herself in despair. Barefoot. In that dress. With these shoes in her hands.

Tell her that there is no place called home. Do everything to convince her that this is a lie. Whatever it may cost. Pay her whatever she demands if she refuses to believe in your words. Money hath charms.

Besten Dank an meinen Arzneimittelhersteller und an den Weinberg, dessen dunkelrotes Rebenerzeugnis so wunderbar mit der Medikation harmoniert.