
Originally Posted by
crazybitch
I have occasional glimpses of memories, memories like ripped pages of an endless book. And now, with the stimulants, I have long drawn out dreams of fighting every shadow and every knife hidden by my punkified nemeses. Each dream ends somewhere in the last half, we come out of the darkness and theirs a brief flash before I wake up...bitten by spiders and missing my pocket knife.
I have found you; I have broke the programming, and I've woken up the prisoners. You don't have the heart to wake me up. You know I'm a hopeless case. I am trapped in your Nirvana that you Crucified; I'm Aya Deva except I am as reckless as a cocaine addict. I dream of the day I can control you, that I can take over the machine--that I can steal your charm, that I can hold you in a still frame and believe in you.
I wash off the dirt from predators, I drift fretfully between class to class, and drift again. I count the digits and paint my walls with bleeding rainbows. Sometimes I wish I could stop longing to wake up, to open the window to a time beyond all this crazy contemplation. I wish I was more a sinner, a whore, a good girl..and with each wish I paste a new wall over my heart, and marker in the reality of who I was...or could be...