Normal as appearance would look.
Insane as inside could look.

I hate to part.
The only reason why I stay apart.

The entertainment is dead,
instantaneous distraction
whether you're bored or not,
living in leading to death.

Distraction, distraction...
and what more distraction,
not a bare disturbance
living in leading to death.

No life.

Your Love once more.

My only wish is to die in your Love,
Quicker and every day again.

She became quiet and unchanged for her mind was left in an attic.
She probably never thought she had kept it away from herself.
Misplaced and unused.

Routinely she reduced her daily tasks, as she sat and slept for the most of all time. For she have lost a change mind.

She is not ready to find.

Our body won't keep us in for long.
Our body is rejecting us, but we refuse to feel it.

Our body is telling us something, something deep within our reach.
Our body is telling us to go, go within our needs.

But we refuse to feel it.
Our body is rotting, the days the wind blows the dusts of us go.

Our body is telling us something...

Deep within the self, not one can fulfil by self.

This is a terrible romantic
and sadomasochistic narrative.

The artist's mind is clothed in fabrics.
Fashion is his vocabulary.

Grim-tales are often told with foreboding,
exacted further through sharp, perceiving lenses.

Collections of sharp silhouettes speak of
a masterful and sensitive touch.

A turbulence of emotions exploded in
delicate and mesmerising theatricals.

Taking delight in challenging popular notions,
Alexander left audience continually in a
lingering aftertaste of shock mixed with wonder.