I woke up with a vagina between my legs / A permanently smooth face / And soft skin / And I cried because the nightmare was over
Kim and Ron were both crouched behind a makeshift barricade made out of a turned over table in the final lair of Dr. Drakken. Surrounding them were a myriad of Professor Dementor’s goons, all of them armed with plasma rifles. Bolts of energy tore through the war zone.
She wanted it to be over, no, she needed it to be over. Therapy wouldn’t help, friends couldn’t help, and everything she ever loved had become empty. So many times had Emilia recited this explanation in the afterlife. Even just thinking about it was exhausting. It was funny really. All the people that called Heaven their home were there under the presumption that they were ‘good,’ or at the very least, not shitty. Yet none of them could understand.
Images of pale decrepit men / Hiding in bulky suits / Billion dollar corporations hovering under each frail chest / Of course they named all this shit after themselves
I heard the mail man stop by / I got up and went outside and found / Two other people doing just the same / Now I’m just as boring as everybody else
Eyelids finally fluttered open, a sharp pain shooting up her clamped jaw, dried blood chipping away with every breath, like bits of glass scattering against skin.