I live in a world of blue velvet dresses, the iridescent gray area between life and death, the blood-tipped thorn of a wilted rose, old Rolls Royces racing through breezy summer nights, cigarette kisses billowing just out of my restless grasp, and lies that taste like cinnamon.

I live in a world where my generation is simultaneously destroying and saving the world. A world in which my peers have descended into madness and the salvation we seek takes the form of ghosts undulating in our marionette dreams.  A world where her ultraviolet eyes haunt me as I trudge along, calling out to me as I stumble through the luminous oblivion that charts its way across the horizon, a constellation of my indecision.