Dionysus walked across the Tropic of Cancer, his pain and ecstasy is on fire, while the human body keeps growing, and yet ones mind and soul keep dying. By the smell of grapes, its going to rain...

It's getting cold now,I can scent the autumn everywhere.

The felling leaves have formed a golden carpet silently.

Cold wind relentlessly whistled unanimated trees,

Autumn ,the season belongs to pessimist.

I was also effected by the damned season.

I don't hate autumn,I hate myself.

Finally,I know the answer,

the answer I have already foreseen.

I wanna say: I am alright.

I wanna say: It's not my business.

But, it really hurts me deeply.

I always tell myself: It's enough.

But I can not control myself.

Why it's so painful for me?

I'm a clown,I'm a creep.

What the hell I am doing?

Me ,how helpless at this moment.

I hate lonely,I hate myself.

That moment ,my soul is dying...