Nicole Blackman

[pjcop.livejournal.com]

WHAT I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS
(and other holidays where we speak of dead men)
Nicole Blackman

I want to know how it will end.
I want to be sure of what it will cost.
I want to strangle the stars for all they promised me.
I want you to call me on your drug phone.
I want to keep you alive so there is always the possibility of murder later.
I want to be there when you learn the cost of desire.
I want you to understand that my malevolence is just a way to win.
I want the name of the ruiner.
I want matches in case I have to suddenly burn.
I want you to know that being kind is overrated.
I want to measure how much torture we can stand.
I want to know where your altruism went.
I want to watch you lose control.
I want to watch you lose.
I want to know exactly what it's going to take.

I want to see you insert yourself into glory.
I want your touches to scar me so I'll know where you've been.
I want you to watch when I go down in flames.
I want to crush the thing you love just so you kno w I can.
I want a list of atrocities done in your name.
I want to work both sides of the fence.
I want to have two cats so when one dies one will eat the other
- and nothing will be wasted.
I want to reach my hand into the dark and feel what reaches back.
I want you to turn tender when you have the time.
I want to remember when my nightmares were clearer.
I want to be there when your hot black rage rips wide open.
I want to find a way for you to survive all this.
I want to taste my own kind.
I want America to be socialized around creation instead of fear.
I want to meet your host virus.
I want to charm your sleep captain.
I want everyone to see the tiara break.
I want to be wrapped in cold wet sheets to see if it's different on this side.
I want you to play it to me over the phone.
I want you to make a scorching debut.
I want you to come on strong.
I want the television left on so I can sleep.
I want to crunch the numbers.
I want you to write your life story and leave me out of it.
I want to write my secret across your sky.
I want to keep you in the dark.
I want to leave you out in the cold.
I want to voice my concerns.
I want the exact same thing but different.
I want some soft drugs, some soft soft drugs.
I want to throw you.
I want to know if I'll ever be safe in the dark.
I want to decide who next year's dead rock stars will be.
I want you to know I know.
I want to speak hot metal fluently.
I want to know why you're starting to look like the last one.
I want just enough rope to hang you.
I want to hurt myself before you do, because I can do it better.
I want to coax the keys from your hand.
I want to throttle the bottle blonde because I know what she did.
I want to know if you read me.
I want to swing with my eyes shut and see what I hit.
I want to silver your hands.
I want to know just how much you hate me so I can pr edict what you'll do.
I want you to know the wounds are self-inflicted.
I want a controlling interest.
I want to be somewhere beautiful when I die.
I want to be your secret hater.
I want to stop destroying you but I can't.
I want and I want and I want and I will always be hungry.

Comments

[archethereal.livejournal.com]

Ugh, I hate Nicole Blackman.

I want to be a pretentious cunt.

Wish granted.