Transadental dreams leave me wanting,
to peal off my skin,
hang it out to dry,
a private map to the sobriety of my life.
You hang from my lips,
like yesterdays treason,
basking in the flow of whisdom,
but none of it is the messages of my soul.
I look across at you,
as you bask in me and hate me at the same time,
I am no better then you,
but I am no less.
I am the physical embodiment of sex,
desire flows in my vains,
hooded eyes and exahusting games,
all of which played on jaded field that is me.
I am my own victim,
but i love myself as I would my soul mate.
I want me as much as you might,
but I want the me that laughs at you when you're done.
The ground work of my own distruction,
lays fallen at my feet,
those dreams in which I cast aside to burn,
shall be the breaking of the still innocent heart.
jaded and cynical,
I am the perfect girl,
full lips,
big tits,
and lacking the ability to say no.
you're displeasure breaks my heart.
But you will break before I allow myself to shatter.
I speak of strength and tapping the power,
and still I will always bind myself with borrowed chains.
