Something is going on, you know, in there. Inside the tangled corridors of my brain. They keep running away from me, the filthy little thoughts. Teasing me, like bitchy teenage girls. "We know something you don't know" will you tell me please, before I carve my eyes out in pure frustration? "You want to know, believe us, you need to know, but we won't tell" Fuck. Everything's a blur, I'm drowning in a dessert, and the air is suffocating.
I'm hearing Lolita lullabies and I have babydoll daydreams. Will someone be my Daddy, please? I wanna wear pink stockings and ribbons and lace. I want huge babydoll shoes with a big bow around the ankle. I want to make cute, curly pigtails, and I want a heart-shaped mouth, pink and precious. Kiss me on my open mouth Daddy, kiss me where it feels nice.
What am I saying? Everything is sick and twisted and wonderful and sexy and horrifying. Nothing makes much sense and I don't know how to think anymore. I want to do something that hurts. I wanna pierce my tongue in a venom-manner. Two beautiful jewels, side by side. White inks will scar my pale skin and needles will shoot trough like it was paper. Paper-skin. I want paper skin.
I want to breath smoke like a dragon, like beautiful clouds on a rainy full-moon night. I want my lungs to be full of fire, my veins full of venom and then, everything will match. Everything will match my charcoal heart. Everything will match.
I'm a fashion whore, a Lolita, a craving bitch that wants and needs every-fucking-thing.
I'm a freaking gorgeous disaster.
onsdag den 18. april 2012
Babydoll dresses, barely covering secret places. Pink ribbons, pigtails and big blue eyes. Are you gonna pick me? Daddy please, if you like me, take me home. Come on you know you like little girls, come on. I can dance for you, put on a really good show. I can play a princess, or a ballerina. I will do whatever you like, if you will do whatever you like to me.
torsdag den 12. april 2012
Ripped stockings, barely holding on, clinging to the straps attached by the hip. No panties, none. Baby you know me, I like being here waiting, anticipating. Let the breeze tickle me, make it harder for me to keep a straight face. I want to be forced to grab my chair to sit still, to have to pinch myself for distraction. Nipples pressing against soft lace and ribbons, anxious, needing. I toss my hair behind my shoulders, bare my collarbones, my shoulders, my freckles. I might be wearing a dress, Honey, but believe me, I wont be wearing it for long.
onsdag den 11. april 2012
Cut it off. Cut it all off. My fingernails, my eyelashes, my hair, everything. I want none of it, I want nothing, I wanna disappear. Hide under the surface and spent the rest of my life supporting your feet with my hands. I'd carry you around the world and back, if only I could.. But monsters, they are tering me up inside, breaking through my skalp, clawing their way out of my skin. They are breaking me up like an empty shell, and there is nothing I can do about it, so I can't protect you, even though I want to. I'd carry the weight of the world for you, but it's a burden I can't bare.
I’m made of a lot of things, of bones and blood and brains, but most importantly; I’m made of sunshine and magic and tophats. I have ∞ tattooed in my heart and behind my eyelids, I have inked fingernails and photoshopped skin. My eyes are lined with pigments and flushed by tears. Pretty tears though, they make my eyes spectacular. Cheeks like a healthy sunburn freckled with shy awkwardness and strawberry corns. I’m not even sure why I’m writing this, but I guess I’m still the same, I still have to write everything down and make my mark. Preferred substances are still ink and blood and spit and alcohol and sex. I want, no I need, the constant roam of guitars in my ears, I want the bass to keep my heart pounding and the sweet whispers of my favorite singers to put my thoughts into words. I’m weird like that… I like ugly and broken and romance in the heroin kind-of-way. I want smoke in my lungs and ecstasy in my veins. I want Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds behind my eyelids and I wanna paint my hair and nails in pretty pastels. White-ink my skin and scar me for life with your beautiful words. Make me sick, make me skinny and make me pretty. I’m a flirt, a slut, a filthy whore. Love me like you love drugs and we’ll be happy for all eternity ‘cause I am drugs, my bones are joints, my skin is cocaine, warm heroin runs in my veins, my eyes are LSD and my lips are full of ecstasy. I’ll suck you in and then I’ll fall apart, escape down your lungs and hide in your chest, carving love-letters in your heart. So Skinny Love, what do you say? Do we dance on the full moon and make love between the stars? Do we swim through the universe, or do we play hide and seek in your brains? I’m not much of a singer, but I promise I’ll sing you to sleep.