(You dirty creep Prakash Saint Paul, I’ll still keep challenging you, even if Trump dies out of you and your minions eating, sodomising and rapining him! Didn’t your evil Piscean deep sea make so many of my heroes die cruelly and prematurely all through history! Did that daunt me?)
Your psychology is like a fish that only lives in the oceans
I am not subject to a deep of shallow lies
The truth is my true love picked out psychology
I think psychology is only entertaining crap, never worthy of any attention!
I think all your shrinks are not worth even my blink!
I am wiser than my true love; for she is always being blackmailed,
and subjects herself to it; I am patient, blindfolded, but never subject to ransom!
You think I wouldn’t know all this decent talk of being so kind and nice,
is only invoking the power of deceit of the Matrix. You all have been impressed by treachery.
Not me. Even though I was the victim of so much treachery and torture
Because you all preferred the destruction of my astute sensibilities, for the foundations of evil
to flourish. Goddamn you all! You are nothing beyond your hypocritical hospice and your febrile fealty to fear.
I am not daunted by the malevolent Matrix manipulating everything against me!
You all swim in your hypocritical stagnant shit and convoluted convenience, if that’s what you’d rather be!
Now the Sun is telling me to listen, wouldn’t it be its idiocy!
If it wants to subject itself to the deep sea?!
I am not listening to anybody be it psychology or philosophy!
I have always lived in loneliness, even when a few friends befriended me!
Call it so much potluck that it has always been some sort of contrived connived treachery!
How do you all fear the Matrix of Prakash Saint Paul and the deep sea, and never respect me?
Do you think I have never understood the folly of taking your cruel advice to demean me?
Everything in this world is a blasphemy. You all are the infidels and heretics, not the heretics and infidels that your fucking religions make you all believe!
I know my theocracy. It is very strange to all your fork-tongued dictums!
Your travesties don’t suit me. My true love talks of patience and restraint. But I really think that I should subject you all to my devastation;
because you don’t fear me or respect my truth, but you all only fear your material impoverishment by the Matrix of Prakash Saint Paul and the Piscean deep sea!
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