Vanilla Blackberries Smoked

Outwardly before I came here I was happy my case worker said, inwardly my eye was self-conscious, free as a bird, like a moth drawn to fire, then I died. I am the two whom you know, born of knowledge from birth few have found. The people I meet have no secrets from me, I can't keep. My isolation, is not any different to me than that which I had before birth. From down below I am bombarded with your primitive images about having sex, the work that you hate and your introverted negative thoughts of those feelings you have of yourselves. At night when you dream I am there in your head and that the images that I see only makes you feel worse. Knowing when you awake I was there. I watch the succubus that you fantasize about climb on top of you. Sometimes you can shrug it off though most of you can't and a lot of this is born from the her, you can't have. I am keenly aware she's is no different than he and waiting in sleep to be popped. Thinking no one is there watching or listening. Your superficial customs to me, are as your borders I keep when I choose. Even though unlike you, I like my job thus by you and through you I improvise, unlike most who in life never lived and filled with tears and regrets then have died. After living inside of your head when in sleep, it is there and then I decide what you need to believe just to live. When I tell you what I do, you sink down deeper inside, I get up. I sometimes wonder if there is nothing wrong with me. Maybe everyone who's awake is right. Maybe you think I rearranged your love of life when I died. Your vanilla blackberries in sleep I have smoked.