Alybat, Come Home Now (it'sgettingdark)

Cut cut cut yourself up, tear it into little wet pieces and spill it to the sky. The world is your oyster, so don't you forget to swallow. There's no time for teeth or punctuated silence. Just get out there and show them they're boss. Sometimes my head lets me think I'm living alone, before everyone rushes back in my head and makes frothy music and starts putting out cigarette butts in my skull. I feel more out of control then, on the cusp of independance. I eat maybe half a loaf of bread. Pasta sandwiches. A stick of butter.
Then it becomes safe again, as Alyson presses her cold red lips around my neck and whispers little petal-kissed dreams to me. She remembers and forgets, caressing my sadness with her power, reflecting control onto me. Then I don't have to think about reality, just hair dye and boys, what jewellery to wear and what perfume to change me. She coasts me through on a leathery feather boa wave. She prickles me with glitter.
Then the world bends to me.