Schizoid

how can it not be real when shreeded memories invade my senses and shroud my soul. How can it not be real when the sent sumptuously cloates memories in exulted notes of Pathos. If it is not so, why does a Freak like me have such longing for Infinity. it can make shudder with pleasure and shiever from it's pain. How can such intimate caresses be felt, from so far a distance. I ache for the sweet placitude of such pleasure's pain. now, the time that never came, has dissipated the past future of what, now, was to be. how can it not be real when i can feel it thrusting within me. V