Are you insane like me?
Been in pain like me?
Bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me?
Just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me?
Would you use your water bill to dry the stain like me?
She shook her blonde hair from it's captor of pigtails. She drew her unitard down herself slowly, revealing her velvet skin. The softened flesh he loved to paint with purple and blue bruises. His finger prints remained wherever he touched, except her pretty face.
She stared at herself in her bathroom mirror, pouring the rest of the wine down the drain, watching it swirl in it's finality.
Are you high enough without the Mary Jane like me?
Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?
Do the people whisper 'bout you on the train like me?
Saying that you shouldn't waste your pretty face like me?
She stared into her mesmerizing baby blues, memories flashing of her ex-collegues' taunts and jibes made at her as her "interest" in The Joker grew to near obsessive levels.
She gently washed away the last of the white paint that stained her face.
And all the people say,
"You can't wake up, this is not a dream,
You're part of a machine, you are not a human being,
With your face all made up, living on a screen,
Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline."
Her attention turned to the black and white crackling static of the tv that sat in the corner of her room. The news anchor prattled on about the night's failed heist and glorified the Batman. Breifly a picture of her face, her old face, flashed acrossed the screen. Headline: Awarded psychologist Harleen Quinnzell turned bad, for good?
She picked up the half emoty bottle of wine and threw it at the screen, watching the picture shatter on impact. She smiled.
Oh, oh, oh, oh,
I think there's a flaw in my code,
Oh, oh, oh, oh,
These voices won't leave me alone,
Well my heart is gold, and my hands are cold
She pulled her pink slip over her head, flipping her golden tresses out of the back and smoothing them. She knew she would receive the brunt of tonight's failure.
Might as well be ready for him when he came to punish her beautiful skin once more.
Are you deranged like me?
Are you strange like me?
Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?
Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?
Pointing fingers cause you'll never take the blame like me?
She knew he'd come, as he always did, reeking of alcohol and the scent of burboun thick on his tongue. He would be merciless, as he always was. His assault would worsen with every uttered breath of prayer or plead for mercy.
She could hear the click of his shoes as he made his way down the hall to find her.
She sat on her bed, her long legs hanging over the side as she waited. The clicking getting closer until they stopped just outside of her door. She could hear his raspy breathing as he took another swig of the bottle before he let it fall from his hand and shatter.
Then, her door knob started to slowly turn and click... Click... Creak...
And all the people say,
"You can't wake up, this is not a dream,
You're part of a machine, you are not a human being,
With your face all made up, living on a screen,
Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline."
Oh, oh, oh, oh,
I think there's a flaw in my code,
Oh, oh, oh, oh,
These voices won't leave me alone,
Well my heart is gold, and my hands are cold