A flower on the table, A book by the fire, A house in the woods, my life is serene, Serenity coming to me.
As I walk through the door, I meet the world I’ve made, A method from those that I have gained. The coffee beckons, and my heart threatens, “Never leave this world, for this world is contained.”
I wrap my coat around me and head to the door, My plush carpet, there's room for more, Whatever I have, Whatever I need, It’s all here for me to see. A beaming, bright dream.
I innocently pull the door, My heart yells “No more” I have to go, Into the world and make a show, For my house is a home and nowhere else I’d rather go.
A brisk wind blows through the man’s short stubs of hair as he walked through the flourishing forest. He lay down and pulled out a sandwich; he looked around and noticing his surroundings he relaxed. His shoes came off as he lay back onto his elbows. He raised one hand up in the air and as if an extension of his hand he waves his wand around and said ‘for you, my dear, dreams really come true’. As Maxwell waved his wand, the trees swayed to the movement and shattered leafs tumbled to the ground. The dark forest floor, now became a light with golden browns and yellowish leafs, leaving the fresh growth to dance their way through the magical trance that the trees had embroiled in. Bright green smoke came from the wandering wand as it wafted through the air. As the leafs cascaded to the ground, he took a bite out of his sandwich. ‘mmm egg and pickle sandwiches are the best my dear’ he muttered to himself. ‘If you could only have tasted such a delicious treat, you would have been joining me on my escapades through the forest.’ He got back to his feet and with a flick of his wand he had green spirt doves fly around him, and just like that he was gone.
Those that are fine can only conceive the tide of fresh that hides my lines. Fat is beauty, and beauty is best, Let's not request what we can of our flesh, For my body is made to be very delicious, This pincushion is precious, Defined and exquisitely timed.
A melting pot of luxury, Brands galore, What we want, we also deplore I have the time and the money to spend, However, what I want comes at no end, Ever so changing, A line here and we all go crazy.
My body is beauty and beauty youth, But we can’t have it all.
The city’s tall buildings engulfed the skyline as I drive, an honour which didn’t feel like much of one in these trying times. London had fallen, at least as an economic power and the pound would get you half of your journey as the price of a ticket on the underground had risen. The blotches of colour that the sun brought at night were the only comfort and similarity that rose from the churn of the now quiet city. If you had told me that growing up in this creative market and concrete jungle would have been a step to the heights of my everlasting life I would have told you nothing can come of such an overgrown city. However, I was wrong. This beloved global monument to finance and the arts, has never been more in jeopardy because of our ongoing triumph, we can now fall from these heights.
Driving through the South quarter of the city, past all the creative new builds and through the spiderweb of the small streets. Drive into the underground parking lot of Canary Wharf. I swipe my card against the terminal and press the silver ringlet button on the elevator. Stepping in I push my dress into my legs and pulled my leather jacket to my chin as a wind washed over me. The elevator shot to the 44th floor of Canary Wharf. Stepping out in black silhouette ankle boots across the marble floor to my apartment, I flung open the door as my bag crashed to the floor; I walked into the room my kitchen, a cutout of the living room. The to the floor windows of my apartment showing the range of colours that the sky offered, this night it was a yellowish gold. I walked through to my bedroom, I pulled off my outfit and put on a red dress with a black undercoat. A black belt to my waist and a pair of black safety pin Nappa leather sandals went on.
I pushed the back of my hair from left to right as I walked to the door. There he was, my beaut of a boyfriend. ‘Do you want to stay in tonight?’ I blushed and looked down ‘I got all dressed up’ ‘I could always get you underdressed,’ he smirked. He pinned me up against the wall of the hallway, pushing his stubble into my neck and feeling up my leg, pushing his hand down my underwear. As he did so I pulled a gun from my bag I had discard earlier and put it to the side of his head. He reached into my underwear. His face dropped, ‘You're a…’ I pulled the trigger. ‘… excellent hunter, I just got too close on this occasion. Shame I really liked you.’ I said as I pointed the gun at his lifeless corpse.
As I write this, I’ve always wondered whether my story — a story of murder, one of my life’s turning points, would ever be told. I have to give people the credit they’re due, they’re most unpredictable. Fascinates me! Like most wealthy Londoners during Queen Victoria’s reign, I live just outside the city of London. To be more precise, I live in Blackheath Greenwich, facing the common. I have an end-terrace house on Shooters hill road and have the perfect view of the common from dawn till dusk. This story starts like any other, with a grizzly murder that, for the faith of heart should turn away, and not read what I have scribed. For the most part, this is a story that can only be told by the one that solved it and that is why I, Edith Lockheart am the one to pen this extraordinary tale.
For the most part, it was a normal summer's day, when a letter from a friend called Alice came. Sigmund, (my head of house) delivered it to me in the lounge. The elegant, formal paper that it was so carefully pushed into meant that this was an occasion of great importance. I carefully stood up making sure that my hoops didn’t catch on the coffee table that I have taken with me on a few strolls around the house before. I picked up the decorative letter opener that had been creating quite the discussion the last time Alice had been over and shoved the gold tip of the blade into the seal of the envelope. I returned to my seat and read the letter.
Dear Edith, I’m overwhelmed and over joyed to be able to invite you to my son’s wedding on the 4th of August at The Royal Greenwich Park. Please wear what you like. Formal attire is necessary. Kind Regards, Alice Hornet
As I read the letter, I like the majority of the people that was to read this letter was overjoyed for Alice, however, I couldn’t help but wonder why the wedding was at the park, when a more discreet venue would have been much more palatable and why such short notice, only a week to prepare? Could it be, that Alice was trying to cover up a shotgun wedding? And if so, why?
The following week I set out for the park. I had Sigmond call a hansom cab, and I was there at the wedding within minutes. They set the wedding in the flower part of the park and with all the benches facing the oval spree of flowers. In the middle of the oval, was an arch and there stood the fortunate husband to be, being entertained (as is custom) by the best man as he awaited the bride. I took my seat at the back as I already was late and knew the wedding would start soon.
The function was filled with a few family members and friends, but all in all the wedding was a small one. I turned to the lady next to me in the purple hat with gold trim around it. “why the small affair?” I asked in a manner suiting the answer of a questionable heir on the way. “I believe the occasion was sprung on them fast, you see the husband to be is going on a trip to The Americas in the coming weeks and decided if anything should happen, it will be as husband and wife” she whispered back. I nodded “I see, was wondering, all seemed a bit fast” “Maggy, by the way, I know Alice from the country club” “Edith, I know Alice as an old friend” We turned our heads back to the wedding that was about to proceed. As the bride walked in between the two rows of chairs and headed for the arch.
Suddenly, a belching scream was let out, and one bridesmaid ran down the aisle fast-paced, with her hands high in the air. After having gotten to my feet I walked over to the screaming bridesmaid and grabbed her hands. “whatever has you troubled?” I asked in the calmest manner I could muster. She looked startled but then proceeded. “There’s a dead body by the bandstand!”. I picked up my hoops and ran with Maggy and Alice at my tail to the bandstand. There, laying on the steps was the most beautiful woman that I had ever seen. With long black hair hanging off the steps and skin as white as snow, the woman lay there with no movement of her own, just a gentle breeze that passed over her soot coloured hair. Her red dress with roses neatly sown in hiding whatever foul play had become of her. Alice having caught up with the brigade of onlookers that proceeded me clapped her hands over her mouth and yelled “Mary Seaborne!” I turned to Alice, “is that her name?” “yes,” she whimpered and then drew another breath “She must have wandered off and hurt herself,”. “This is no accident Alice, this is pure murder,” I proclaimed adamantly. I walked over to the nearest tree and plucked from it the red hat that accompanied the dress. “And I wager that someone outside the wedding congress has not committed this murder.” and placed the hat careful at the foot of Mary Seaborne’s lifeless body. “And it is known to me who committed the murder.” I paced back and forth.
“The wedding of sorts is fast, quick-paced. This wouldn’t have given our murderer time to kill Mary themselves, that is why he used the poison arsenic.”
The crowd chocked and Alice questioned “he?” “Yes, this is a murder committed by a man. Usually, men use brute force and strength to commit their crimes, but this one didn’t have the time for that. They planned this, premeditated murder.” “how do you know it was arsenic?” A man that I didn’t recognise asked. “Don’t you smell it? That almond smell? it’s in all our makeup nowadays. Yes, a clear sign of poison and a heavy dose at that meaning this person didn’t know what they were doing.” I paused for a moment and then carried on “Alice, you weren’t just planning a wedding, you were planning a murder.” “I thought you said a man committed it?” Alice’s daughter asked. “Yes, but it all had to be planned, didn’t it Alice.” Alice’s daughter turned to her in disbelief, “Mother say it’s not so?” “I am sorry, Tiffany. You weren’t the only one.” Alice muttered to her daughter. The young bridesmaid that had found the unspeakable scene said: “I am of another mind here, Edith please do tell us what happened?”
“Very well. See this was, in fact, a shotgun wedding…” I turned to the woman that I had spoken to earlier, “…You believed a lie Maggy, there was no trip to the Americas. The groom had an affair with Mary here and she fell pregnant.” I turned back to the crowd who was now shocked by my reveal. “That Unfortunately was Mary Seaborne’s mistake, to have a child. Both Alice’s daughter and Mary were pregnant with the same father.” I continued “The groom is the one that slipped Mary the poison.” Tiffany, Astounded by her own mother “But why? Lots of men have children with other women?” “Because I can’t afford both you and her,” The groom replied pushing his way to the front to be with his bride. “Tiffany, I’m in a small fortune of debt.” “Meaning the park was the only place that you could get married anyway.” I reinforced.
Before anyone knew it, the police were leading a way both the groom and the weeping mother of the bride.
If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t know what’s real, I loved you at one point and now. Well now, you don’t speak true,
I listen to the voices, I hear the things you speak, I didn’t always agree, But now I love to see,
Flip-flops in the sand, Margaritas by the beach, This friendship can’t stand, These feelings make me weak,
What is making me mad, Is the way you speak, Your breathing is a nightmare, And I want to make tweaks,
I always kind of knew, I always kind of cared, But what you’ve done now is nothing but stare, I understand why you did what you did,
Jealousy makes me think you can’t be discreet, You Copywrite my work, You steal my ideas, What I don’t understand is where you came up with this career,
Now it’s all said and done, I’m laying here sucking my thumb, If I hadn’t stopped you, Only a few could have imagined what you’d do,
The light of some count only by those so dumb, It’s not fair to say you’re smart, I knew you before, Don’t start.
One more thing, and try to follow, or you won’t win, Your callous heart, Will ruin those that are smart.
I sit here, questioning what made us I sit here, wondering what would want to make us The world, covered in dust and painted concrete grey We rush to our job to make ends meet The world around us built to the skies Advertisements lace the cities The urban jungle snatches the lives of the young and hopeful The wildlife adapts to unnatural landscapes but, doesn’t change its natural ways. We pillage others like us in the excuse for oil, which kills our farms and kills the natural order. You would put a man in jail for digging up someone, but if the ground made us into oil, you’d not think twice about it. Greed runs the cities; greed is hoping to gain more at the expense of mental health, and nature.
Identity. Online we’re charismatic, charming, quick and witty. But in real life with a Donald Trump of our friends. I’m here to point out to you in multiple ways that your identity changes on different social media types, for example, you cannot be the same person on Twitter as you can on Instagram because I don’t look like my Instagram Brad Pit does, or maybe it is Brad Pit’s pictures with a great comment underneath. Whatever. The fact of the matter is You can’t be yourself on social media.
Personality types on social media
Alice Hall has a theory that there are three traits that people have social media. Extraversion: sociability. Neuroticism: fearful avoidance Psychoticism: hostility and aggression On this spectrum of traits, and where you fall on, it decides what social media you enjoy more. For example, someone that enjoys sociability might take more to Facebook as there are more people to socialise there with.
So what do we get from using these social media’s, well the answer is clear: Socialisation. Research has found that heavy users of social media sit higher on the scale of extraversion. Of course, less interaction with social media, the lower you are on that scale.
Online self-presentation and virtual Identity
Online self-presentation is a representation of yourself contained online. For not having an online self as we are, we have to display ourselves through the act for avatars or display pictures. Sometimes these quirky pictures of ours call attention from our fellow friends, and they comment on our interactive, personal persona of a display picture. This then puts us into our virtual identity where we respond with something like ‘Lol, I need a new hairdresser’. What we reply then creates spores for a whole new online personality to form. For example, if I put up a picture of me holding my master’s certificate, then I would be seen as sophisticated and intellectual. It’s still me but that lousy hair day picture looks a lot less convincing that I write about social issues. I will also make my online self up of a name, an email address, online history and status within an online setting.
Building on this, it is not just my social status on my network that propels me, but the connectivity that comes with social media. To get frank with you and skip this if you’re one for the basics. You’re actually what they call a node, and when we interact with each other online, we create media multiplexing. This social orgy makes you want to be connected and online.
Although we can get very creative online, we’re still blocked by the copyright laws of the terms and conditions or the constricting construct of the social media it’s self. Although would you want to sit there and create your very own website, so you’re not restricted?
Multiple identities on online social networks
Our online social network experience increasingly fragments us; 52% of us have two or more online profile. Managing these social media identities is called impression management. This is where you, online control what you are seen as being, you’re managing your identity online. That Instagram post of you eating that cake with your face makes up part of the impression you leave online. It’s control over what you want to be seen as and what you are. But before you freak out and hit all those delete buttons on your social media’s. Findings have found that multimedia helps mitigate first impression biases, for example, a person might find someone’s Facebook profile and have an impression that they are not a lovely person, but when shown the persons Instagram’s, have a different understanding of that person.
If you don’t believe that you even have this problem and that your immune to this fostering of multiple identities, then, for example, Instagram is a visual image and video sharing social media. In contrast, Twitter is a text or microblogging social network. These two networks differ from each other and content uploaded to Instagram, cannot and is not shown in the same way as it is on Twitter. This allows the user to be multifaceted and show off more unique parts of their offline identities, although this may lead to manipulation of the truth.
Always on (The Martini Effect)
Shelly Turkle believes that even though this connected life that we live on online social networks is pleasing to us, we will go to great extents to keep ourselves connected. She talks about people known as ‘cyborgs’ these are people that have connected themselves to the internet through mechanic devices that after a time cut the skin and eventually scar just to be connected to their favourite site. Whereas Bryant and Oliver found that people that had heavy usage of online social media networks, were more likely to feel socially isolated, lonely, and emotionally depressed.
The Negative Consequences
Social comparison is when a person compares themselves to another, commonly related to envy, and is very subjective to the person experiencing it. We’ve all done it, Kylie Jenner’s new lips or Donald trump’s fabulous hairdo, we’ve all had a case of the green-eyed monster on social media. With online social networks, this comparison of persons, is only a click away, meaning that social envy and feelings of inadequateness are propelled on social media. Researchers found that the worst culprits for this were people engaging in ‘passive usage’. Passive usage is when you’re following and watching but not actively taking part in online activity. One area where this has been studied a lot is body image. Research has shown that men and women compare themselves more often to peers than to models or celebrities.
People engage in social comparisons, and this has proven to be influential between exposure to the thin ideal people in the media and women’s body dissatisfaction. Women have a higher probability of social comparison than men, but men are becoming more dissatisfied with their bodies because of online social networks too. Unlike women who are motivated to be thin, men are more likely to strive to attractiveness with increased muscle definition. Gay men have reported more dissatisfaction than heterosexual men. This is like women’s experience of body dissatisfaction. Appearances on Instagram of the users’ social group might not be realistic at all. Studies investigated whether their peer group idealises manipulated images on Instagram. ‘Exposure to manipulated Instagram photos leads to lower body satisfaction than exposure to original photos’.
Obsessive-compulsive disorder is one of the most common disorders 1 in 40 adults in the U.S. is said to have it or have had it. We recognise OCD by one of two traits. Repetitive, intrusive, uncontrollable thoughts or urges also known as obsessions; and repetitive behaviour or mental acts that a person feels compelled to act upon, known as compulsions.
Say I was to go for a drive and when I got home from that drive I started to experience images that I have run over a fox on that drive. It then repeats this image in my mind, becoming an obsession. Because of this thought that I have run over a fox. I drive back along the route that I just took looking for the dead fox. I know however that these images are not real but I am comforted because I checked by re-visiting that route.
Here, my uncontrollable thoughts or obsession that I have hit a fox with my car on the way home, has led me to act on compulsion and drive the route again. But of example, if I just had the thought or just did the drive I would still have OCD. The criteria only ask for one of the two, to meet the standard for OCD.
Obsessions
Common types of obsessions in OCD fall into different categories. These are: Contamination: That you have been infected with some sort of disease, for example, using the public toilet now I have herpes. Responsibility for harm: I hit a fox while driving home Sex and morality: What if I can’t resist kissing this person Violence: What if my lover is stabbed on the way home from work Religion: God is watching me masturbate Order: A feeling that objects must be perfectly arranged
Rumination is of a side effect of OCD, but it is more encompassing of anxiety. Rumination is a state of remembering past events to gain control over them.
Compulsions
Compulsions are repetitive actions. They commonly fall into five groups: Decontamination: cleaning obsessively Checking: Checking the car is lock multiple times Repeat routine activities: Repeating words or touching Order: Sorting things in alphabetical order Mental rituals: Counting solving maths problems or repeating a phrase one's mind until the anxiety has revelled
OCD can be so bad that it can look like the person has psychosis. This is where the person loses touch with reality. However, in OCD, this is not the case the person knows somewhat that what they think is not real even if it is a slight insight into their condition.
Treatments
Treatments for OCD is usually CBT and a combination of medication, however, sometimes, this isn’t effective and the person will have to go through electroshock therapy. This only happens in 10% of the OCD population though and is rather rare.
It’s been going for a while now, ‘wow’, I just don’t want you in my life, You cause trouble and strife, We’re two very different human beings, The relationship was steaming, You were bubbly and beaming,
Please don’t get me wrong, Even though I’ve had your dong, I love you very much, Just we can’t correct this stuff, Every day we talked, It was more than small talk, We both felt there was nowhere to go, You said I changed your life for the better, I hope you keep it that way, Hope you know I love you anyway, I get it you want a friend,
I will forever be there for you, Just not as close, I know you love me and I love you too, I hope you're not hurting as the way I do, Forever friends, But plans come to an end, I know you're angry and probably calling me a pansy, But I don’t care, It wasn’t how I wanted this to end, But then plans changed, they bend,
Now you’re forever gone, As if we could ever right those wrongs, Talk forever, now not a tremor, We could love again, If it wasn’t for the way you offend, I would tend to your every need, But you will never be of that degree,
It’s as if you wanted to hurt me, Trying to hurt me, with the words that were so useless, What was needed was a friendly reminder,
However, you used me, with what you knew of me, And that was clear from everything I fear, Money doesn’t make the world go round, But that’s what makes you come round, I’ve never been so upset by the way you used me,
Boring, Is the word I'd use, However, you think that of me, Intelligence is lost on you, For that is clear to see,
Smarter is not for you, Adolescence and one that is rude, Those are the words I’d use.
A Rose as ugly as you may never see the light of day A rose as rotten as you may never see my light Thou shall not be a rose if a rose is neither you You are a rose in name only
Beauty is taken away from you. My love is tied to you. You are as ugly as you are beautiful
So just had another episode, or this may be your first. It's time to take a step back, the first thing you need to know don't dwell on the past. Yeah, you painted the walls with mayonnaise and you walked into the Olive Garden thinking you're famous or maybe you had a horrible time and everything that you stood for got shaken into another world. After all, you weren’t in reality.
Here is a bit of history for you, back in the Victorian times, Psychiatrist were called alienist because they thought mental illness had alienated you from yourself.
In the spirit of keeping things historical, Your Psychosis wasn't you, it was your alien. You didn't do that your alien did that. You have to come to terms with the fact that you cannot change being mentally ill. The disorder exists within you. It has done and it will always be there in some way or another.
Psychosis isn't a personality disorder, You can't have therapy for this, Anxiety you just take medication but for people with psychosis or psychotics medication doesn't always work and sometimes it doesn't work in time.
Recognise the signs and symptoms
It's always good to recognise that it is coming, for example, mine is the feeling of the brain or what I call the ‘mist’. It's always good to acknowledge these things and sometimes you know it's coming and that's the worst part because you can't do much about it. Even the medication doesn't always work in time. I have brief psychotic disorder, which is a type of Schizophrenia. I tell my friends around me and the people that love me the second sign, which is dreams or a delusion that I call ‘Boo’. This helps normalise it to them and it helps to understand when I talk about Boo and all these other things that are odd. That they have some comprehension that they can help even if it is just getting me the help I need at that point in time.
Blaming the Alien and not myself
Okay, I do embarrassing things in my episodes. But that wasn't me that was my alien. Because at that point in time I didn't meet the criteria to be to capably understand what I was doing. In fact, I wasn't in your world I was in my own world. And that wasn't me that did all these things, in your world, it was the alien.
What I'm trying to explain is you can't blame yourself for your actions when you're not mentally there. You're too ill to be there. Your actions and not of your own. I've lost friends over being unwell, and that really hurts because I love those people but the alien push them away and I have no control over what the alien does. I have control over recognising that alien and I can prevent the alien from showing up, by taking my medication and looking after myself.
Dear Diary, I am so upset in my life. It’s only been a year since I made this deal and yet everything I’ve dreamt of has made me so upset. I dreamed of beauty, and they stowed it upon me; I dreamed of love and to be cherished, again this was given to me. I wished for a fantastic career, and yet again they found my job to be as exciting as a baby discovering the unknown world that they’ve been born into.
I do not want to seem ungrateful Diary but please take back these gifts you’ve given me. The beauty that I appeared so to desire, people no longer see my personality; they are just taken with my looks. The loved one that you bestowed upon me is scaring me. He loves me Solely for my looks; he does whatever I say; however; I wanted someone to talk to, keep me company, explain things to me and understand me; he doesn’t. Instead, he bends the knee and agrees with all that I say, even the most stupid of things. I wanted an intellectual conversation to stimulate my mind. Instead, I got nothing but a back-end of a donkey. I wanted a fantastic career, and it is just that… to others. To me, I have to deal with the difficulties of things I could never imagine. I can only think of the mundane Monday that people experience. The new field that I work is incredible, and the findings of my research are just inspiring.
Let’s deal with something for me. Something to challenge me. Something to change me. My dreams have never been more fulfilled, and yet I have nothing to reach for. I want the world around me to just implode, For the simple fact that I do not want to live anymore in this reality. Sometimes I go for drives in the never pleasurable anymore. The phone call to interrupt me is always something to do with work. And work is… is well it’s exciting, but it’s not what I’ve been looking for. it Is exciting for others, diary. It’s exciting to watch, and It’s creating a ster. I’m not the coffee cup though, I’m the stick, and the research that I find pushes me to want to quit. The psychology of people, the psychopathology of daily life. The media which we interact with. We have so much in common, yet we are so far apart. The cogs of the wheel of personality and facets that create that cog, making us so complicated. Maybe I enjoy my job… no, no, I do not. I am seen for my looks, and not my achievement, I am recognised for the trials of my career, not for my research. My husband is forever doting, but never truly there.
I shouldn’t have made the wishes I did. I should have wished for something less permanent, like ice cream on a hot summers day. Even then, I would have been given a problem. They say you can’t wish your questions away. There isn’t just a problem with wishing them away; there is a problem with having the wish. The cake always looks better than it tastes and in this case diary, the cake tasted horrid. The friends that once embraced me, now won’t talk to me, because they believe that I’m living in the fast lane. In truth, I’m barely living.
Your obsessive trait. Is what sometimes makes you great A mirror your weapon Your driving not great Ops, another mistake There goes that person’s gate
People crossing is a chore BEEP BEEP and I’m yours Bouncing off my car There goes another child I must admit I’m wild
Now my mirror is filled with blue I really am through Behind bars On a water fast
Clearly not my fault Being brought to court The judge is a sort Reading how I plead Me getting on my knees Begging to be free
I’m off again now, people my new surround-sound Bars of the door, showing teeth marks galore I wish I wasn’t poor So I could have paid the bail, Instead, I'm asking for the pail
You turned away from me. And all of a sudden the world changed. My life is not the same. Wifi in the sky, connected to on the fly. Techno boom, what is really true. You thought it all through.
So much has changed, my life insane Time is of the essence, so much to be done we no longer need to run it’s never quiet because of ongoing triumph
Ever so changed, in the way we display Marketing tools, at fingertips Visual impairment, no longer to be stared at. Our very instinct now is to follow the crowd Our basic tools replaced and handed to fools Can no longer use them as they bring confusion Because they are not LED-lit, or bright with resolution.
But it's all has a price, and we didn’t think twice You're now “running out” People shout I’m not done with you yet Yet you are done with us What will happen is a great confusion It’ll be more than an intrusion What is clear We will disappear.
If I smile for you, will you wake? If I cry for you, will you tell me this is all a mistake? If I stop you, will you hold my hand? Suicide is the plan
I sit here dreaming of what could have been What will you say to me? Is this all a dream? Will you ever know what you mean to me?
If you look for this idea, You will forever find it clear As looking into a mirror You will find the terror Not what you see but that which you believe
What little did I know, you make quite the show, One of a connection, Another in my direction,
What little did I know, I find you now brittle and broken, Repugnant and open, It's something of a token, To show your not well-spoken, In the art of reproach,
What little did I know, That you lazily crave those of whom do not path the way, Art is a science of the mind, created by those who are divine, You look for those who are mistaken, you may only get taken for a ride, I see how you do, and I want you to improve, This eye is trained for clues, If you could see inside my head, your disapproval would be your undo
Creating a movement of what can only be called an improvement, However, you are not refined, practice takes time. You are going to make a motion, it may not rock the ocean, But in time you will become divine.
Tangled in your own dictation Thrust into literation Your literation will be mistaken As an act of great exaltation In the way it is mistaken
If you were sharper, you’d have more creation It is not me, but your maker That angers you and puts you into this alteration Loving you is hard to do The words don’t stop and neither do you You are taken with your own dilation On my very creation why was I awakened to deal with this mistakenness
Tight bodied and cream of the crop does nothing but make your jaw drop If I was one of you I’d make a pit stop, to show off what I got You want to find a top Well, you might find a lot Doesn’t matter what you got Twinks and otters, drag queens in totters We got the lot
Look at the way we dance We’ll put you in a trance Pulling together, getting wet whenever You’ll think you're in France by the way we prance
Your mouthpiece of manipulation