I fell into the pit
Of sadness and doubt
All because of this thing
Called society

I tore out myself
And shredded the things
That used to define me
All because they told me I can't
Be who I wanted to be

But society doesn't change
They judge you for who you are
And who you aren't
It's a prison
And we cannot escape it

I have travailed over the foresight of previous decades where we balanced upon the brink of trauma.
The end is just the beginning.
Coal fires emit a wonderful fragrance and they cast flickering shadows where thought-provoking sexuality displays her wanton brilliance across the walls of contemporary debauchery, don’t you think?
As snowflakes fall across strata’s of lost innocence, let us contemplate echelons of depravity where solitary existence is characterised by gallant company in the English countryside of Georgian extravagance.
The female servants flutter their extended eyelashes at ******* gentry, whilst social mores dictate the silence of rage.
Prepare the horses, oh sanguine being of unspeakable beauty. You and me: we need to talk.

Truth bares the deepest recesses of her concealed modesties.
Can you feel the resonating equilibrium of tantric sound as we connect across humanitarian divides?
Tears fill my eyes, as I bask in the presence of such elevated humility.
I am grateful for the wisdom of simplicity, as opposed to what may be deemed to be stupidity.
Let us join hands around this circle of cultic agreement.