Why Wall? Why Wall Street? What? You don't know it yet?

Why do I keep thinking about you? Why do my thoughts all converge, incline in this one and only direction? Don't look for information, however hidden and concealed, about yourself. Why do you, why should you, think that when I write 'you', it concerns the you? It can be literally anybody. Frankly, it can be a person as well as it can be an object, mind you. Anyhow, why does it always have to be something so ordinary and mundane that is really happening out there with you while I am going out of my mind, inventing, brain storming for some really Hollywood movie like scenarios and a whole renweal man project happening around you? perhaps, it is your way to escape from my reign? Well, it comes not as a surprise to me that drugs were always an fail-safe way out to forget things. Here, anybody, but you, should mind the tricky gap, that is, the more of those candies you use, the deeper you fall into the misery you strived to so meticulously forget about. Either way, is this a spring for my progress? Because it is the unremitting constant you with the unsteady and rampant me. Wait a sec, one thing is for sure here: once I gave in, you'll be nothing but a mindfull of thoughts on me. No past master at eristics will have ever taked me into it is not the case. It was a great relief once I realised, once it came down on me, that all I needed from thee was company and nothing else; full, crystal-clear admiration of myself, liable to my full control - which girl would have resisted such a bargain? Conditions permitting, should I have the predatory stake at my disposal, could I not, shall I not, will have I not use them for my own sake. Everybody loves you. Not reciprocally. Your limits have been reached, in a consequence of which there is no big need for you to bear it back from your initiative. A tangles up way of mind. Already got lost in the use of small words of mine? Good, I mean, calm down, I won't do this any more. For this post at least. So help me God.