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I miss her, so much that I want her. I want her back. I want her now. I am going crazy. I want her back. I want her now. Fully and Unconditionally, maybe I'd even settle for a glimpse. I just want to see her. Rightnow. In my constant state of objectivity and dreams. I want to burn myself and I want to see her through the fire. I want her beyond any thought or expression. It's like everything around me is disintegrating by itself as I am looking for her in unknown time spheres. From an average sociable chap to an ambiguous inconspicuous drug-addled bastard who fails to pursue anything or anyone. Fuck, I just hate this city. I hate everybody. Slowly banishing the angels inside me, slowly getting to disbelieve in love and existence. There is space where I am, I dont know how did I get here. I dont want you to find me. I just want to see you in a unparalleled plain of white snow, as happy as one would be seeing the Sun.

I know you're there. I know you care. For people you love. Just yesterday it seems, you sat across the table. Red liquid in your glass. Red paint on your nails. The smile and it's treat. My heart skippin' beats. Your hands. The fingers which lay still. The hair on your face. The shining dot on your nose. The apple of your eyes. The story you had to tell everytime. The message it gave. The hope it instilled. The better man I was. They way you'd read out to me.
"Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.”