DISHONESTLY DEPARTED: Every other day it's the same thing; you want it your way, no matter what I say. You can see you're hurting me, destroying me, completely. I don't want to talk about it any more. I meant what I said when I called you a whore. You blamed it all on me when I busted his jaw. There's blood on the floor. I turned on you. Your face turned blue. Fell over, left, right next to Mr. Ecstasy. A colourful carpet, collage of catastrophe. Moments of madness, it finally got the best of me and I feel no remorse. Dishonestly departed, you're together at last. You've been cast into the oblivion on your ass. The fire in my heart ignites the rage of memory: You were a disease. I'm free. My mind is at ease.
You've been casting shadows in my mind that I thought were the result of guilt and anguish trying to drive me crazy, but I'm realising all the criticism and the cynicism is the damage that you've inflicted. Confidence and preservation of a life in which I had thought i was controlling but you fucked me over. Now the table's turned and testimonies are flying and the lies seem to be leading to people dying. My personality has always been split. A part of me used to take it, the other did not take shit. And now I'm left with a hint of Sigmund Freud, whose studying suggested twas the devil inside every fucking one of us. [*********]master of ceremonies, schizophrenic, highly energetic, poetic, a lover of phonetic prose and adverbs. I never used to listen to the voice that told me that I should discard your heathen body so your soul could be cast out. Now the voice is speaking through my mouth and doing whatever my heart is suggesting... like choking your life out. Every single day it's the same thing. You've got it your way and now I'm insane. You have taken over me, infected me discreetly. I've been pulled into the back of my own mind; you have taken over and now I'm a lie. I should have stayed away that one more time and you'dve never had a chance to make your advance. It's probably why we're sitting in this padded room. I'm talking to myself. I'm talking to you. We're trapped inside a jacket. We're together at last. We're in oblivion. You've got what you wanted but it's all gone to waste. Can you smell the irony? How does it taste? You've been suppressed by a guest you've never met before. There's blood on the floor. I turned on you. My face turned blue.
Give up the ghost, you can't hurt me. A slit of the wrist is fucking easy. The id has disappeared; it left with the blood flow. I'll write it on the wall just so that they know. My personality has always been split.