maniac.

DELUSIONS
= false beliefs strongly held in spite of invalidating evidence

- paranoid delusions, or delusions of persecution, for example believing that people are "out to get" you, or the thought that people are doing things when there is no external evidence that such things are taking place.
- delusions of reference - when things in the environment seem to be directly related to you even though they are not. For example it may seem as if people are talking about you or special personal messages are being communicated to you through the TV, radio, or other media.
- somatic delusions are false beliefs about your body - for example that a terrible physical illness exists or that something foreign is inside or passing through your body.
- delusions of grandeur - for example when you believe that you are very special or have special powers or abilities.

Delusions are firmly held erroneous beliefs due to distortions or exaggerations of reasoning and/or misinterpretations of perceptions or experiences. Delusions of being followed or watched are common.



Hallucinations are distortions or exaggerations of perception in any of the senses, although auditory hallucinations ('hearing voices' within, distinct from one's own thoughts) are the most common, followed by visual hallucinations.


DISORGANIZED SPEECH
= These are also called "word salads". Ongoing disjointed or rambling monologues - in which a person seems to talking to himself/herself or imagined people or voices.

Also described as 'thought disorder' or 'loosening of associations', is a key aspect. Disorganized thinking is usually assessed primarily based on the person's speech. Therefore, tangential, loosely associated, or incoherent speech severe enough to substantially impair effective communication is used as an indicator of thought disorder by the DSM-IV.

i got the 'ilary', but i've lost the h.

" Depersonalization (or depersonalisation) is an alteration in the perception or experience of the self so that one feels detached from, and as if one is an outside observer of, one's mental processes or body. It is a feeling of watching oneself act, while having no control over a situation.^[1] It can be considered desirable, such as in the use of recreational drugs, but it usually refers to the severe form found in anxiety and, in the most intense cases, panic attacks. A sufferer feels that he or she has changed and the world has become less real, vague, dreamlike, or lacking in significance. It can sometimes be a rather disturbing experience, since many feel that, indeed, they are living in a "dream". "

It's referred to as a disorder, but when you actually think it through, there are valid points to the world lacking in significance. Our key points of being here is to maintain the Earth, and reproduce. We just tend to like to set up these little 'values' and 'life roles' to assure ourselves we are something more then what we are, or even to help us believe in religion.

It seems to me thinking and viewing in any other way other then apathetic would be more of a disorder, considering the delusions one is placing on themselves that we are humans, not animals. We are animals, we've evolved into a high functioning label of animal. Easy as that.

i got the 'ilary', but i've lost the h.

viewing on slurring

attach it to me, attach it to me
because i don't feel attached to this body. . .

I thought you said you didn't want to feel anything anymore,
and well, I just wanted the person next to me to be worth opening my eyes to in the morning.
. . . .

I should thank dear Bloody Mary that her God never loved me.
. . . .


I can't fall asleep, but I can't wake up
They say adrenaline's no good for me. They say what I'm doing to me just ain't no fucking good for my body. And well they always say "just remember to breathe". They tell me not to let it get the best of me.
Don't let it get the best of me? well fuck it, "it" can have the rest of me.

licking walls and licking ceilings, licking colour and purging up all the feelings.
vice binging and mimic speaking and
i am a very repetitive human being.

twitch

little bo peep needed to rest her head
but temptation kept rocking her bed
little bo peep went crazy and started eating pencil leds
all while puffing imaginary cigarettes

i want to see that ass clap.

Kissing up on panic, and switch shifting between low and maniac
I'm three different persona's, but I am not three different people.
Your peace and your love just couldn't replace the medication, and it just couldn't make me better again.
. . .

Just because you think you're distracted by where your eyes stray,
doesn't mean the monsters in your head are going to go away. . .
. . .

There's one hundred and twenty scabs on my brain, and I cannot be fucking bothered to pick them away.
Gives me some character, and I need more something in my life
I need direction, I need religion, I need a husband, I need a wife.
and I continue kissing these electricity outlets, and chewing on the chords coming out of it.
But what else is there to do, who else is there to see, and my rage is still the only thing 'deep' about me.
. . .

So now I wind up here, surrounded by long-legged gypsies with five minute cures
Licking off the blood, and imitating the cross - it's only then they say I will become pure.
I'm just an emotional staircase;
each step is a step closer, but it's also a step further away.
You're just always too close for comfort and too fast for closure.

one hand on the ground

" then i whispered in her ear whine harder and then she said to me boy just push that thing "

Perfecting modern, and covered with so many bite marks that i lose track of them,
but never ever do I lose my sight of them.
she had the best way with movement,
she was the best that i have ever had.
her body was like the walls, she tasted like cocaine,& the only thing hungry about her was her fast hands.

Her hands touched my whole body. Her hands were on every part of me.
I could feel her eyelashes flicker up against my skin
and the moments I wasn't with her, were moments I just didn't want to live,
but then she was the only one who could pull me out of it.

. . .

you can't call us in love, but i guess you could call us lovers.
and I'm pretty fucking sure this is how it works,
I want more of you, and you need less of me.
so I guess we just need better from each other.

. . .

capital living, with my scars in hibernation and my speech swimming.
I heart subconscious breathing paired with stroke-of-luck being,
and my words not feeling empty every time I find myself talking.
it seems like so long ago that I was confined to buildings, where my memories were barely enough to keep me going

voicecrack.

energizing the bombshell, hoping to get a look at a collarbone
take two, a look at anything at all
to take and take and take and run away with hands pouring full
lick trips and fuck lips, i got it all and a fucking whip
i want you to bits, i'd love you in pieces . . .
i've got you with my legs and i'm chasing everything right now when i don't need it.
in the tents with the psychotic men
or in the beauty parlor with the girls who fuck other girls to fill the hunger
and both ways my eyelids wander

mirror choking because i couldn't clear my eyes and glass got in my airway.
love doesnt kiss me in bed at night. . .
up and up and i got lost in the ceiling,
with tiles covering my face,
so i'm away from you and your away from my eyes

so you don't dress me up with you fingerprints so i don't touch you with my feelings.

crowd colours, im all powder

FAT aint PHAT
thin is in

the classical world has it's own bulimia

" I reject your reality and substitute it for my own "

pyschopath predators

follow your heart, or follow your nose . . .

i fuck straws and ten dollar bills
i just wanted to make me feel beautiful
fuck babbling on, my mouth's too numb. and what the fuck has happened that i have nothing here but nothings gone? im all wrapped up in myself again. im all caught up in snowbanks again. looking away or staring it straight in the face, both don't do me good so where is the happy in that?
it's my ideas that are like string wrapping around my head and brain.
it's my ideas that are wrapping around too tight and causing me to suffocate.

she's always been hard to feed, but easy to leave
and maybe the two had something to do with each other.
she could always relate to people walking off buildings
and jumping in front of automobiles that were fast moving,
because she got the statement and was always pretty sick in the head to start with. . .

Just because your distracted by body aches,
Doesn't mean the monster in your head's going to go away. . .

sugar, you make myself complete

Oh Dear Bloody Mary, come fucking bleed on me. come fucking eat at me, because the only way i can pay you back is with my fucking body.
anything and everything is worth it, as long as it is for the rails.
anything and everything, i suppose that it could all be worth it if i got to feel your skin build up on and underneath my fingernails.

and i will take all my time just because i want to feel a pulse surface up. would it work if i said that i wanted you to crawl on up and fuck me up, and is that not the magic words and are you not fucking turned on?
you can use me or you will lose me, because its not that i even want you - i just want to feel you hurt me. cut me or fuck me, it all feels the same, so either way you want it to be is any way you can have me.
just make sure im fucking screaming

distaste and satisfaction

I can take out the chords, but she'll always be a screamer
fornicating with the gods, but from where do such pretty things come from?
what do we need, what could I need
the physco warmth and bodies all contort, the 'everyday, same time' pill? the forget me pill. teeth marks and nail cuts, blanket bonds and short term trust.
you taste like nicotine and codeine
and all the other fabulous, wonderful things - that can place me in a calm state of being. and restful. oh god, I'm so restless, and over extended.

the hours were long, may I breathe you in? and rise above my limbs up into my skin, back and forth and up and down again.

this voice snaps at me
this voice traps the anxiety in me
this voice, oh this voice is the scariest fucking thing.

what would winston churchill do.

baby baby baby - come have some fun with me

higher higher, more more.

churchill do

around your neck.

it's always someone dysfunctional - and it's always about sex
you're so beautiful, you know.
you're so beautiful, fuck you're so beautiful, please don't go?

oh you just need to take off some edge love, don't you worry because I'll take you home when this is all done.
but for now, just let all those pretty fucking colours scream your name,
and don't fight that sound from trickling on into and out of your veins.
you go to let that touch sink and stumble up every single fucking part of your brain
polaroids of bloodshot eyes, pour visine on them& they magically turn white

additions.

memories love misery, and history fed off of extremities

i count my balances with stimulating conversation - aided with escalating substances
i dont feel much of myself in me, let alone you
im not living im just being
im just pretending, im just simulating what i should be doing
as long as you get it, what does it matter what happens after it ?
you cant deal with the disorder in me, and i cant stand your inconsistency
why dont you leave, why dont you leave
i let this boy push me up against the wall, legs around him and up off my feet . . .
just so you would leave me.

touch without feeling

notre dame.

am i interesting, am i intriguing
are you barking up my fucking tree, because you need these things which to you i can feed?
are you crossing your legs because your aching to crawl on over to me & lick my mind clean?

their was a notion on a hunch that the great god's never get an impulse;
but i have more eye for the influence of the character human instincts
i lick the bible of satanism and embrace myself with involuntary mannerisms while swallowing down unnecessary brain spasms you keep me complete. i have this skin deep allure for the body to always conquer and rest assure it can be said i've long passed' pure '. im the goddess of presentation and i provide the invitation, i could be dressed but still be completely naked, and everything anyone else has i can always do without it. im as real as it can fucking get; im just above advanced - i will never be a friend, im just an acquaintance
and im the upper hand and i hold the power for dominance

im enabled by the traits that have me disabled
because i am moving body fun.
i cant stand these fucking concepts , which everyone thinks are soo expert
well i would rather fucking die on a cross
speed me up, slow me down - give me an occupation in which i can drown
im this mannequin missing all four limbs of the body, well what good am i to you then pretty baby?
the hunger sustains me and im an example of what its like to be alive but not living
the colours of my most intimate sets, roll around and wouldnt you like to get deep into every thought thats up against my head ?
i contract into a glitter high from the impact of a drag queen's eyes
is it beauty, did i make it beauty yet?
are the tears coming down like the bloods coming out yet?