Reading Up on Warning Signs

A prior relationship exists between
the central theme of the delusion,
usually of a higher status, idealized
romantic love, and control that comes
from stalking and spiritual union -
incompetent, resentful, and predatory.

Unlike the intimacy seekers, the relationship
has gone “sour” (Based on the Diagnostic
Statistical Manual, 4th ed.), demanding to be
the center of attention, and speaks in a manner
overly impressionistic and lacking in detail.

The offending individual perceives some mistreatment.
Mistreatment is defined as "The object of affection."
Males, seen most often in forensic samples, come
into contact with the law. Females are seen most
often as "the willful, malicious and repeated
relationship, dating, and lover that another person
is in love with."

The victim is almost always obsessed in their love,
similar to the erotomanic individuals. To rectify
the schism, or to seek some type of retribution,
a campaign is begun to make his/her existence
a result of a relationship dissolution - this
individual has a primary psychiatric diagnosis.

when perfection comes

When I became a man,
I reasoned like a child.
I speak in the tongues of
my body to the flames

I have a faith that can move
but I give all I possess
where there are tongues,
they will be stilled
when perfection comes

when perfection comes
it does not boast, it is not proud

when perfection comes
then we shall see face to face

then I shall know fully,
even as I am fully known.
when perfection comes
when perfection comes

when perfection comes
love, I gain nothing.
it will pass away
it never fails.

I am only a resounding
gift to the poor imperfect.
Like a child, I thought
of angels, but have not
love

when perfection comes
I am nothing.

then imperfection

instead of asking the lady out
I'll admit I don't know what the hell
Our thoughts (mind) are impossible
without the body - my body has learned how

my brain always wants to take a bus
To do this, you have to act. When
my body has learned how to filter
the substance, by thinking of this woman,
I am in fact wildly optimistic, ungrounded
the reason why alcohol has learned how to
believe we all have spirits, and our bodies
Puking out my soul to ask her out somehow

yeah, my soul wants to go to the beach.
Who wants to go on a date, anyway? I've
hardly ever speak to her and this leads me
to witness the event and think of things to say
To which I reply: This is the reason why
my heart wants to shrivel up and die,
our minds are a product of these laws
and so are logical, mathematical, and rational
our bodies are tools for their experience
since my image of the spirit is based on the physical
It's the guys job to ask her out somehow
we all have spirits, and our bodies are tools

I think about a certain someone often
I think of slitting my throat. Above
all love. All there is is love - by
thinking of this woman, I am in fact
telling myself that the woman I'm actually
thinking of is trapped and has to witness
the event? Does my inability to act
interfere with you? Which leads me to believe,
imperfection, then

like clouds taking back the rain

i've been waiting.
waiting for the damn in my heart to break
until i was done
the dumb decisions i've made
i was hoping
once they started they wouldn't stop
crying out the last six months
for days

but the words came
out of his mouth so fast
in that moment i wasn't prepared.
i watched him shake his head
from the corner of my eye
i shoved it all down deeper
and dried my eyes

when the year's first rain falls
unfamiliar moisture
against my parched eyelids
let the monsoon have its way
but the tears stopped too soon
like clouds taking back the rain

such a petty argument
could send me reeling in pain
for a moment i thought i could let it all go
i could sneak off to my bed
like a slap across the face
and he would be all the more confused
as to why
to make me feel silly
and dried my eyes

when the year's first rain falls
unfamiliar moisture
against my parched eyelids
let the monsoon have its way
but the tears stopped too soon
like clouds taking back the rain

and i was looking forward to
the tears streaming down my face
but they didn't come
the way i expected them to
the tears burned just as bad
all the rejection. and growth.
the surprises. and joy.
unjustified anger
but it wouldn't matter
let it all go
the tears didn't come
enough to make me imagine
the way the dry, cracked, desert earth feels

when the year's first rain falls
unfamiliar moisture
against my parched eyelids
let the monsoon have its way
but the tears stopped too soon.
like clouds taking back the rain