Dark Horse Arts and Sciences

Are you real or some figment of my vivid, wandering imagination, floating through an empty space inside my consciousness, flustering me with your surreal presence? 

Do you really exist, or is it only my mind that is playing tricks on me, presenting before my eyes some baffling imagery of your curvy physique?

Are you a part of my already-confused, convoluted consciousness, or is it just me imagining that my consciousness is compromised by some outside entity through some mystical power?

Is it your physical form or some metaphysical manifestation arising from the roots of absurdity?

Are you a metaphor for my already-devastated life, showing me that everything I observe is nothing but a mere illusion, all trapping me in, into a fatal nest, a nest so complex and labyrinthine, no one will ever be able to get out of it?

Are you nothing but a simple illusion, appearing before me like a mirage, receding away from me every time I try to get a hold of you with my bare arms? 

Is it just me who has lost his mind or is it the whole universe that is seeing you right now, with their own naked eyes, without any damn idea of what’s going on, or who is it that makes them feel so delusional?

Sometimes, I feel like you are only a fabrication of my alter ego, trying to convince itself that beauty exists in this world; that such an elegant and radiant creature can be created by some unknown force. I also think that you exist only because of me, for me, and inside me. Without me, you are nothing but a tiny fragment of my non-existent imagination, that’s even not there any more. Without me, you are nothing but an empty vacuum, devoid of any substance or any physical form.