Insane.

So, on Thanksgiving the clock came flying towards me & cut off my face. The voices whisper: 'come closer ashley, it's just a bunch of dead kids ad spiderwebs. come on, you spineless little cunt.' Grandmother pops out of the chimney with claws extended, her eyes black and the blackness runs down her face. She runs at me until she's barely an inch away, and she says, 'we could make gingerbread boys together. with the icing and everything.' She flashes me a grin of shark teeth. [home sweet home]
Stop this, please. These memories throw me in the over with that fucking pie and bake me until my skin peels off. But I feel it. Or do I?
I'm so fat. Fat, fat, fat- a proper disgrace. I don't deserve this skin, just rip it off before something else does.
Then re-bake me until you remember a million years later at 1000 degrees Celcius & I'll be perfect for you.
Maybe, I could off myself and I'd rot down to 0 lbs. I would be perfect.
Show me how to live.
I knoe that I will lose her
-You lose everyone you pathetic fuck.
I am beginning to scare myself.
I'm just a scarecrow, merely a shell of who I once was.
It fucks you up, but it gets you fucked up.
"Now I've done so many drugs it's nice to be sober sometimes."
I say all the wrong things at all the wrong times in the wrong way.
I don't belong
-anywhere.
I'm gone.] "And she believed them every time."
"Para-fucken-nioa driving me insane,
Para-fucken-nioa ripping up my brain"
[(I wish, it was real.) You have no idea, what I'm talking about.]
"Para-fucken-nioa making me believe,
It's either
Para-fucken-nioa
or
Somebody's after me."
(maybe...maybe we could make it real)
I think I'm just a hallucination.
The words are rotting on our tongues, it tastes like filth.
But they evaporate into our lungs and never crawl out. we're scared to say the words, because it might break the thin glass that protects us like dead insects.