i felt my presence into the silent chaos of his mess, and the impact on him, in any district that he trod i felt i am for him, not a closer one, but a concept, as he transplanted all my faults into a lovely shape i felt my sighs more true than any truth i live, deducted arrogantly, as an ironic irony, (because…) …because he had the boldness to narrow his eyes by blinding mine with his shimmering darkness ∙ i felt... felt my beauty in the shadow of his thoughts and his only water in any province he trod he made... made me feel like an idea and not a poem, thanks to my flaws, restyled by him into a classy ideal; even my dreams... my dreams became realer as real while our truth was only an abstract in bathos, buzzing