Nda : Perdu au cours de mes divers maladresses technologiques puis récemment retrouvé dans les méandres d’une conversation Facebook avec mon âme soeur, ce texte fut un autre craquage pseudo rythmé craché en deux phases. Sur ce ; lecture !
Don’t wanna be this kind of random chick. Ghost lady smoking in a random place. Picking it. Rolling it in a random space. Then breaking it. Till down down down.
Don’t wanna be the kind of one you think about when inhaling that shit. Exploring an other bitch. Trying an other type of wound wound wound.
Don’t wanna be the kind of sweet vampire hanging out in the night. Whose lips take away your breath, body, soul and mind mind mind.
Don’t wanna be this kind of errant bitch. Disappearing all along. Living in a cloud. Soul dying all alone. As a malediction. Wicked trick thrown at me. Which can’t do but watch around as life is going drown drown drown. But…
What else could I be ? I admit I’m just passing around. Zoning up in the shadow. Glowing in the darkness. Walking in neverland as to find a place to go, a way to grow. There’s no home. I’m haunting the very ground I’m walking on. Cause I’m there when I’m not, and away under your hold. Uncatchable. Invisible. While so bright and touchable. I’m made of gold, shiny and so bold. What a freak and a fucking paradox. Chilling from my depraved throne. Plasma queen cuffed on a bloody couch. Potentiality, what an infamous treasure. Are the gardians hearing my clinking chains ? And dare you, visitor, listen to my chilling howls ? Greed has taken path under my crown and silence is following my wraith. Cause I’m just an other junkie lost in her own world. Half there then gone. This reckoned kind of female hollow. A Ghost.