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the Queen
I scratched the writing off the walls in a doomed existence- the kind of doom that kills itself to taste the pleasure of pain...the kind of doom that loves to drain itself just to be refilled. I was in my dirty jeans and t-shirt at the mall, walking through painted houses and plastic nicotine whores, with hipbones that fit into
their bikini loving lover's jeans. I want to wear those hipbones- and parade around a nicotine drug infested lullaby, wear things make sense in this drifted half-ass earth. A circle in the sky, a fucking dot on a piece of paper, I cant see outside myself, only these dots on the walls- the flies being rotted by spiders- the decaying moss outside your fingernails, itching to chew off the part of me that once was so different from someone...maybe me maybe you-
I want to -drown- really -drown- and then float up into this haze of stars- where polluted ashtrays orbit the heavens with the molecules that made us into pasted white skeletons on dirty white sidewalks. The little chemicals are everything, every chew, every little bit of dust- every gram of sugar- infested, injected- I've taken your heroin, and it poisoned my veins, I was a zombie- full of mediocre
dreams that fell short after a long pause. but they kept feeding it to me, and I paid you your money and you fed me more and more until your pockets were larger than your gut. I couldn’t, only i wanted to sleep away the pain- away the tragedies. I wanted to forget the feelings, of light being shined into
your eyes when your half unconscious- and then to be forgotten, to drift like a meaningless starfish in this crystal sea...but i cant take them anymore, i need something wrong- i need half of you and half of me. this dopamine, this dopamine that's been dragging me down, suck me dry of it- take it all away until i do not
think anymore. Im suicidal with vengeance. you don’t understand. the way the curve of your mouth intrigues me, the way your eyelashes turn me on...the way your system worries me, and makes me dig my nails into my wrists because i dont know what to do- when i cant read anymore and no one is looking into my eyes and seeing- that Im blind. I took too many, i took a thousand, a missed a week, i slept for a year-
but it doesnt matter- ive been up for over a month zombified by your lies- isolated and treated like a rotting corpse for being a vegetable. im not in a coma, im a fucking human being laced with rotten purposes and half promises- no
empty promises. you can take me for who i am, empty, apathetic, alone- shallow- im not here nor there- but please feed me this nicotine, so i can be waist thin, so i can be wasted, so that i can no longer be the wrong- thing that i am, i dont want beauty i want to be wrongly perfect...and kill myself in the process. i want my veins to burst and all the kerosene to spill from my veins and the illusions and the fairies floating in the basement to fall asleep so that i can admire their glittering eyes without knowing their distorted minds. Im a sick- sick sick sick
manifestation ive been put through- the side effects of your diagnoses that never made sense. i want to hallucinate until all hallucinations cease and there is nothing but a lifeless comatose puppet floating in a sea of rainbow mist. i want this this this this....to be endless, there's more to life than mitochondria and dust...but im living in the end of the universe- where the world has become
we are taking over the world- we , me and all my missing personalities- the one that died, when i took your drug and flushed it down the toilet and found myself in another- do you know what that drug was?
It wasnt...it was a chemical reaction, a synthesis, an explosion of molecules running, it was imagintion being let down by a substance that defeated its purpose than brought up by one that didnt....it was the human fucking mind- we are the most complicated things that ever existed. but lets talk about knives and wrist
slashing, anorexic herion and dirty pretty jeans that i bought at Wal-Mart because they cost less. this dizziness is nauseating, why cant the PERFECT word be... yellow. If there was a God....shouldn't he take the power back from me? Shouldn't he be the King? Who should rule this trite existence, or am I the Queen?
Mindless1 June 13 2007
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