I have withdrawn into myself
where surrealism shines warmer than realism.
With a sigh I tell you,
that cut in the mirror before me,
I met a man who wasnít quite pieced together.
So close, why do I continue to see myself as such?
Oh, itís so intoxicating to study a surrealistís painting,
as opposed to the dead, spiny tree thatís painted in reality.
What an ugly thing reality is!