If that object is beautiful in its decay, in its wretched purity...or in radiant ambiance of its sheer beauty....only the eyes of the observer can render its meaning obsolete by design.
no matter who you are and what you do and what it is that one may follow or even for that matter, to be the one that lights the stick ... in the end of ends you are still swimming within your own fluids.
no matter what reflection you may see when you stare into the mirror in the dark...those vibrating shadows that gleame with its own light...no matter if you add that face to the memory banks...in case you never see that face again...within liquid thought...within that prismated feeling of desire...it is still you that you slumber with...
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