the soliloquy of the solipsist

Priss. The standard pleasure nexus 6 model

I?

I walk alone;

The midnight street

Spins itself from under my feet;

When my eyes shut

These dreaming houses all snuff out;

Through a whim of mine

Over gables the moon's celestial onion

Hangs high.

I

Make houses shrink

And trees diminish

By going far; my look's leash

Dangles the puppet-people

Who, unaware how they dwindle,

Laugh, kiss, get drunk,

Nor guess that if I choose to blink

They die.

I

When in good humor,

Give grass its green

Blazon sky blue, and endow the sun

With gold;

Yet, in my wintriest moods,

I hold

Absolute power

To boycott any color and forbid any flower

To be.

I

Know you appear

Vivid at my side,

you sprang out of my head,

Claiming you feel

Love fiery enough to prove flesh real,

Though it's quite clear

All your beauty, all your wit, is a gift, my dear,

From me.

- Sylvia Plath

(barred spiral nebula at the Virgo supercluster,

one-star solar system, 3rd planet, aka. Earth)