the rants of an insane man at a strip club- turned to poetry...
I wrote books,
a thousand million,
fifty,
a lot
about the dream time
(the bad time
bad stories)
i wrote them on
scraps
of what i could
remember
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
can't hear anything but mindless arguing deep behind my ears this one tells me the best plan was to make short sharp cuts in his face that'd look the nicest maybe split at the seams only the/my voice (the one i call other, the one i pretend isn't really me) didn't tell me to the newspaper monster soaring down from the ceiling in the single bed sized room did. this monster was thin(paper haha) with newspaper clipping hoods over dark eyes dragging paper knives towards me. death by paper cut.
what is going on with me...
what is going on with me...
Monday, April 06, 2009
my mother doesnt see how far i have come. every day is NOT. a struggle, not lately (not til yesterday/today/this moment bleeds through me acid rising) i need to explain to my mother-
my job gives me the flexibility to focus on my career
my job is not as emotionally draining as sitting in front of a desk
i create a fantasy i DONT sell sex
i have never been happier in a job
i DO Have the power
if i didnt want to do it, i wouldnt- easy as that
i am very supported by my friends at work
we are NOT drug addicts, weak, victims, sluts
i AM a feminist.post or otherwise.
how can i say any of that to her...she wont understand...she only hears stories of sex work she researches in south east asia trafficking my life story as her own so its easier for her to digest "how can you do this to me"
matthew left me...i am not good enough for anyone...
soon i wish i was air borne flying falling free .wish i was a pile of dirty clothes strewn on the pavement from a great height leaking juices from behind my spine and my ears bloodying the street and any idea of me they might have had (wrong).
matthew said i am too concerned with how other people see me, maybe if people would stop seeing me as a work in progress i wouldnt be so caught up in it...
my job gives me the flexibility to focus on my career
my job is not as emotionally draining as sitting in front of a desk
i create a fantasy i DONT sell sex
i have never been happier in a job
i DO Have the power
if i didnt want to do it, i wouldnt- easy as that
i am very supported by my friends at work
we are NOT drug addicts, weak, victims, sluts
i AM a feminist.post or otherwise.
how can i say any of that to her...she wont understand...she only hears stories of sex work she researches in south east asia trafficking my life story as her own so its easier for her to digest "how can you do this to me"
matthew left me...i am not good enough for anyone...
soon i wish i was air borne flying falling free .wish i was a pile of dirty clothes strewn on the pavement from a great height leaking juices from behind my spine and my ears bloodying the street and any idea of me they might have had (wrong).
matthew said i am too concerned with how other people see me, maybe if people would stop seeing me as a work in progress i wouldnt be so caught up in it...
Saturday, April 04, 2009
he said: i can smell your juices
i thought about rubbing my fungus behind his eyes
back there i imagine it's all coils and snakes and rubber
one of those real WOOOAHHHH moments and the eyes spring forward right out there, just after some big bossomed bunny rabbit walks by and before a sledge hammer gets him, in that moment i smear yellow globs and he cries thrush on to my sympathetic shoulder.
i thought about rubbing my fungus behind his eyes
back there i imagine it's all coils and snakes and rubber
one of those real WOOOAHHHH moments and the eyes spring forward right out there, just after some big bossomed bunny rabbit walks by and before a sledge hammer gets him, in that moment i smear yellow globs and he cries thrush on to my sympathetic shoulder.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
dont you hear me
scream..........?
the mother of all.
you men are Just
mother-fuckers
drone lovers
i was fed
for sex
made my own cut
like a hinged lid.
but i can sting
endlessly
i sting
child's trumpeting
I AM HERE
i am here to fight
if this is all ive got.
hear my flight
with out
a movement
dont you hear me
scream..........?
----
the saddest thing ive read for a long time.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen_bee
poem is totally stolen from all of this.
scream..........?
the mother of all.
you men are Just
mother-fuckers
drone lovers
i was fed
for sex
made my own cut
like a hinged lid.
but i can sting
endlessly
i sting
child's trumpeting
I AM HERE
i am here to fight
if this is all ive got.
hear my flight
with out
a movement
dont you hear me
scream..........?
----
the saddest thing ive read for a long time.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen_bee
poem is totally stolen from all of this.
song of the bees
ive decided i have a new obsession with bees= they're totaly the new birds, but i doubt i could write a play on them/maybe/but i think ill start with some poems and see how i go. the beginning of a poem i cant be bothered working on just yet...
the queen bee says :
my many legs
expand,
spread
black tar and other
sticky shit.
honey in every
lonely hole,
too sweet too sour
the lot of this.
i dont know how
IM FUCKED
but im told
i was born for this.
i was the right size
and every man
the right fit.
-------------------
please note- this is me trying to right with a FAKE character i am NOT writing as myself, though it's easy- im writing from perspective of bee. queen bee as permanent whore and mother, and when i start writing from worker female bees, what it is to never be a mother. devastating world of bees.
the queen bee says :
my many legs
expand,
spread
black tar and other
sticky shit.
honey in every
lonely hole,
too sweet too sour
the lot of this.
i dont know how
IM FUCKED
but im told
i was born for this.
i was the right size
and every man
the right fit.
-------------------
please note- this is me trying to right with a FAKE character i am NOT writing as myself, though it's easy- im writing from perspective of bee. queen bee as permanent whore and mother, and when i start writing from worker female bees, what it is to never be a mother. devastating world of bees.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
wanting to move past this...
sunny side up...
You trickle through me
around my ankles
chained to you/r nails
or anything sharp
on offer;
your gaze
and remembering
we had agreed on forever.
you stain
this Ever concept
like i saw
red food dye on velvet
picked at it
against my skin
i cried i cried i cried
only the beauty of metal
and not the taste
only dim-lit memories
and fancies, free-like.
that shackled feeling
that we agreed on forever.
--------------------------
i still feel like she owns me.
i want to fly.
You trickle through me
around my ankles
chained to you/r nails
or anything sharp
on offer;
your gaze
and remembering
we had agreed on forever.
you stain
this Ever concept
like i saw
red food dye on velvet
picked at it
against my skin
i cried i cried i cried
only the beauty of metal
and not the taste
only dim-lit memories
and fancies, free-like.
that shackled feeling
that we agreed on forever.
--------------------------
i still feel like she owns me.
i want to fly.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Saturday, March 07, 2009
the art of Plagiarism
i have very little creativity of my own, at least that's near the surface so i did the old faithful collage poem method...cut up words and bits of sentences to create some weird little poems about nothing or everything in my subconscious i guess... begin...
1/
still clowns
synchronised in the corner
a place where they'd been
burnt
--------better than us
i wouldn't have waited around.
they can run, punch, kick, hit and throw.
i found them in a house.
they flew together.
i lost
it
you'll see it
so dirty. i wanna be dirty
get feet in our faces
i like the graceful
you chuck
through a dream world.
until i pass out or
stop. Indefinitely.
2/
i was sick
relax. Don't panic.
-------------------alone
and i wanted
wet dream
so we were covered
after
3/
dance while we drink
i might throw
point my toes too.
It's OK, boys.
No. I'm not a Barbie doll.
control of my gun.
she hates about you!
dainty
-just need more tits
money
get broken
Sex Things
it's a big deal who pays, unless
money is just.
makes it worth it.
But not for all.
1/
still clowns
synchronised in the corner
a place where they'd been
burnt
--------better than us
i wouldn't have waited around.
they can run, punch, kick, hit and throw.
i found them in a house.
they flew together.
i lost
it
you'll see it
so dirty. i wanna be dirty
get feet in our faces
i like the graceful
you chuck
through a dream world.
until i pass out or
stop. Indefinitely.
2/
i was sick
relax. Don't panic.
-------------------alone
and i wanted
wet dream
so we were covered
after
3/
dance while we drink
i might throw
point my toes too.
It's OK, boys.
No. I'm not a Barbie doll.
control of my gun.
she hates about you!
dainty
-just need more tits
money
get broken
Sex Things
it's a big deal who pays, unless
money is just.
makes it worth it.
But not for all.
Friday, March 06, 2009
MORE old writing circa 2007
crazy crack prose written in 2007 it actually went on for much longer than this but my hand writing stopped making sense and it gets even more confusing and self indulgent...
Dressed in wings and a lace shell, her eye shadow in skin and things,
of trying to erase them. She’s stitched carefully with eyelashes and hair, for holding in boiling with out measure, for holding on. There’s layers for little tears to rip indents in, her and Forever
and decisions take Time.
She chose this
And it’s too hot to hold hands.
tonight
it’s too hot.
She’s clustered on the couch in a Fist and watching sleep disappear with kisses that were Hers and she tries all she dares to exist. The tv is screaming and the floor’s everyone’s but hers. She could own the upstair curtains if the cat wouldn’t insist on breaking them down, leaving a trail of material and fur.
She chose this.
And it’s too hot to hold hands.
It’s too hot.
She broke the glass in the door, just one crack held together with cellotape and she said she slept in the park, but it was safer than her, safer than here. Meaning Forever meant flying knives and waiting for the sharpest to take the both of them.
She always flinched with yelling, she’d never been told love meant always having to say you were sorry. And she liked silent and crying and was used to alone and played wife, even if she couldn’t get the cleaning right. Smoke and diamond mirrors led her easily and soon she cried when touched for it was meaning and rushed her dizzy head in to spins of promises. Music was thrown across the room and she sang riddles in her mind to hide time. She had cried when she heard the groan of the punching bag and fist in the garage and made childish demands to outraged ears. Many steps to take and she couldn’t run fast enough only round and round, begging at feet.
She could see the world and her mind were for worse than walls that shook close and sterns words were Honest and Truth would bind their love. Lies sounded good if she said them out loud but she only knew to write words that hurt, better to not, and to cocoon and soon-later at least she’d re-emerge and they’d be better. Her words only bred crazy and if she didn’t write or think much about much she wouldn’t be.
She pays best she can and buys time with gifts, not enough, never enough and is giving the impression she doesn’t love as good and right because she dreams collages and candle names not shiny toys and shoes for love.
She is lucky to be looked after so well, and is faithful to fear and she never will tell. Even tripping over that darn cat they take photos and laugh at easy bruises and cry for easy forgiveness. Somewhere in bloodshot she wishes her eye would stay like that so she would see. Yet even in fading she can’t forget, just pushes it in to her bubbling digestion and swallows gritty salt, shaky smiles.
She keeps seeing other smiles with sharp teeth and she’s already thrown all her trust in to her red, white and checked basket. Her nightmares of wolves under the bed are in the daylight and she can’t quite bare the wake from dreams comes true.
She lies and likes the way it cans till sound nice when she says she’s looked after and loved and they will marry. Even if she is kept a secret, how long could anyone really keep secrets, she wondered.
No room for leaving: deceit ridden everywhere and not as was thought, even the cat’s unhappy and angry and clawing to get out. Except when they’re alone, the cat and her. Then they hold tight and warm each other.
ENOUGH.
Dressed in wings and a lace shell, her eye shadow in skin and things,
of trying to erase them. She’s stitched carefully with eyelashes and hair, for holding in boiling with out measure, for holding on. There’s layers for little tears to rip indents in, her and Forever
and decisions take Time.
She chose this
And it’s too hot to hold hands.
tonight
it’s too hot.
She’s clustered on the couch in a Fist and watching sleep disappear with kisses that were Hers and she tries all she dares to exist. The tv is screaming and the floor’s everyone’s but hers. She could own the upstair curtains if the cat wouldn’t insist on breaking them down, leaving a trail of material and fur.
She chose this.
And it’s too hot to hold hands.
It’s too hot.
She broke the glass in the door, just one crack held together with cellotape and she said she slept in the park, but it was safer than her, safer than here. Meaning Forever meant flying knives and waiting for the sharpest to take the both of them.
She always flinched with yelling, she’d never been told love meant always having to say you were sorry. And she liked silent and crying and was used to alone and played wife, even if she couldn’t get the cleaning right. Smoke and diamond mirrors led her easily and soon she cried when touched for it was meaning and rushed her dizzy head in to spins of promises. Music was thrown across the room and she sang riddles in her mind to hide time. She had cried when she heard the groan of the punching bag and fist in the garage and made childish demands to outraged ears. Many steps to take and she couldn’t run fast enough only round and round, begging at feet.
She could see the world and her mind were for worse than walls that shook close and sterns words were Honest and Truth would bind their love. Lies sounded good if she said them out loud but she only knew to write words that hurt, better to not, and to cocoon and soon-later at least she’d re-emerge and they’d be better. Her words only bred crazy and if she didn’t write or think much about much she wouldn’t be.
She pays best she can and buys time with gifts, not enough, never enough and is giving the impression she doesn’t love as good and right because she dreams collages and candle names not shiny toys and shoes for love.
She is lucky to be looked after so well, and is faithful to fear and she never will tell. Even tripping over that darn cat they take photos and laugh at easy bruises and cry for easy forgiveness. Somewhere in bloodshot she wishes her eye would stay like that so she would see. Yet even in fading she can’t forget, just pushes it in to her bubbling digestion and swallows gritty salt, shaky smiles.
She keeps seeing other smiles with sharp teeth and she’s already thrown all her trust in to her red, white and checked basket. Her nightmares of wolves under the bed are in the daylight and she can’t quite bare the wake from dreams comes true.
She lies and likes the way it cans till sound nice when she says she’s looked after and loved and they will marry. Even if she is kept a secret, how long could anyone really keep secrets, she wondered.
No room for leaving: deceit ridden everywhere and not as was thought, even the cat’s unhappy and angry and clawing to get out. Except when they’re alone, the cat and her. Then they hold tight and warm each other.
ENOUGH.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
what does it mean to be both a stripper/an object/and a feminist (post or otherwise)? the post mix got delivered to the club across the street even the buildings suffer from some confusion.
man is buying skin is buying sex only i dont have sex to offer MY sex is not for sale only man's sex he buys in to this illusion/allusion to sex he buys his own desires. man is seeing me naked only Darling you will never see me naked you see me dim lit with red lips the both of them you see soft skin and shadows and whiskers. i havent shaved for a few days i figure you dont get to buy my smooth and ive got a bloody tampon shoved up me im splitting at the seams so any minute now i might bleed on to you. bargain, you got this woman real cheap.
man is buying skin is buying sex only i dont have sex to offer MY sex is not for sale only man's sex he buys in to this illusion/allusion to sex he buys his own desires. man is seeing me naked only Darling you will never see me naked you see me dim lit with red lips the both of them you see soft skin and shadows and whiskers. i havent shaved for a few days i figure you dont get to buy my smooth and ive got a bloody tampon shoved up me im splitting at the seams so any minute now i might bleed on to you. bargain, you got this woman real cheap.
Friday, February 27, 2009
apon reading kathy acker
**please note, the use of dots is meant to just be empty space but this stupid website won't allow me to do my fancy thought seperating spacing...
------------------------------
if i can accept
colours
and pretty/ugly...................pretty ugly
shapes
.....................THIS IS IT
i can be free.
[to die.
.to live?
.in an undetermined order]
i wouldn't
i couldn't
make a decision
of what to wear to the funeral
{said in a muted low voice that is not my own}
red is the new black
black is everywhere
im not sure
i have the right shoes
to get around in
i get around alright.
i could break the circle
if i made The Choice
only i wouldn't.
......i couldn't.
i could live a Life
of embrace
desire/
no concequence
leave a trail of myself
they leave me battered too
this battle
each blow i bring apon myself.
alliteration is one of Lifes small pleasures.
------------------------------
if i can accept
colours
and pretty/ugly...................pretty ugly
shapes
.....................THIS IS IT
i can be free.
[to die.
.to live?
.in an undetermined order]
i wouldn't
i couldn't
make a decision
of what to wear to the funeral
{said in a muted low voice that is not my own}
red is the new black
black is everywhere
im not sure
i have the right shoes
to get around in
i get around alright.
i could break the circle
if i made The Choice
only i wouldn't.
......i couldn't.
i could live a Life
of embrace
desire/
no concequence
leave a trail of myself
they leave me battered too
this battle
each blow i bring apon myself.
alliteration is one of Lifes small pleasures.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
i have allowed
my toast to go cold.
it is now
bread with melted
peanut butter
at an earlier time
than mine.
he's perched
on his breakfast log,
minds have been swirling
for an hour
or more.
it must get congested
up there
or it's all in order
as straight lines
or circular roads,
a capital idea. [get it. haha]
i'd like to keep this
image/
always.
my toast to go cold.
it is now
bread with melted
peanut butter
at an earlier time
than mine.
he's perched
on his breakfast log,
minds have been swirling
for an hour
or more.
it must get congested
up there
or it's all in order
as straight lines
or circular roads,
a capital idea. [get it. haha]
i'd like to keep this
image/
always.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
quote of the day-
i want the world to stop. i want the world to be sad.
and i do. how can all these people i have never/will never met keep moving keep smiling, how can they laugh so loud [nothing is that funny] how can they not cry for this loss. fuck you sun for making pretty patterns in the clouds that look like a painting of gods and cherubs. i prayed to this God character ive heard of on the off chance i did believe, i prayed. but it is the world, it is the universe, this horrible mess of BALANCE that brings good and poorly placed bad to us all.
thank you stevie smith for reminding me we are all waiting to die- or maybe that's what ive just read in to this EVERYTHING.
i am a cliche on my knees in the rain wrenching out my hair screaming WHY NOT ME.
i want the world to stop. i want the world to be sad.
and i do. how can all these people i have never/will never met keep moving keep smiling, how can they laugh so loud [nothing is that funny] how can they not cry for this loss. fuck you sun for making pretty patterns in the clouds that look like a painting of gods and cherubs. i prayed to this God character ive heard of on the off chance i did believe, i prayed. but it is the world, it is the universe, this horrible mess of BALANCE that brings good and poorly placed bad to us all.
thank you stevie smith for reminding me we are all waiting to die- or maybe that's what ive just read in to this EVERYTHING.
i am a cliche on my knees in the rain wrenching out my hair screaming WHY NOT ME.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
i am hanging on to every word even if it seems i'm not. it is a struggle, i confess, not to withdraw and find myself enthralled by the walls crawling around me or focus on the pattern in nothing on the ground. there it is blurry and safe and near sleep. i feel myself slip away a little and i remind myself to stay for something very worth while and more wonderful than that strange monster shape i can draw out of the walls.
in matthew life is sweet and colourful and feels like the life i should have been living.
in matthew life is sweet and colourful and feels like the life i should have been living.
more old poems...circa 2007
You said darling take care
this hood and cape won't protect you long
but you look quite tall in red.
You offered fresh cut flowers
I, drawn to the skeleton trees
growing in the lake.
Off the track
I'd see wolves
in soft wool
unravelling
with a glaring bite
and eyes of night
that catch me
long past bed time,
muddying my riding hood.
------------------------------
I remember. I wanted this
Matchstick
Around. Beautiful
cracking bones and
blister touch,
the fanatically restrained
hardly breathing
mostly beating
on their own.
Fire dance in circle
praise at off hours
Sits them silent
and wordy
heads round-a-bout
unrested
above their frame.
Toy wooden ballerinas
pointed to turn,
poised to flame.
this hood and cape won't protect you long
but you look quite tall in red.
You offered fresh cut flowers
I, drawn to the skeleton trees
growing in the lake.
Off the track
I'd see wolves
in soft wool
unravelling
with a glaring bite
and eyes of night
that catch me
long past bed time,
muddying my riding hood.
------------------------------
I remember. I wanted this
Matchstick
Around. Beautiful
cracking bones and
blister touch,
the fanatically restrained
hardly breathing
mostly beating
on their own.
Fire dance in circle
praise at off hours
Sits them silent
and wordy
heads round-a-bout
unrested
above their frame.
Toy wooden ballerinas
pointed to turn,
poised to flame.
in response to andrews musings...
one all i'd reckon
a tie around our veins
desperate for anything
collapsible
or two to me
and your grazed heart.
i hardened some
the times i was passed
to the weekend
a whisper
a habit of yours
to recover from
and much too less
to end with.
you love me best with another by my side.
one all i'd reckon
a tie around our veins
desperate for anything
collapsible
or two to me
and your grazed heart.
i hardened some
the times i was passed
to the weekend
a whisper
a habit of yours
to recover from
and much too less
to end with.
you love me best with another by my side.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
on waking up haha
Morning meets me
with grizzly undertones,
grey around
my lashes.
A glue I would will
to seal
tightly closed.
Alas, I must go to work.
with grizzly undertones,
grey around
my lashes.
A glue I would will
to seal
tightly closed.
Alas, I must go to work.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
blast from past collages/poems
while cleaning up my computer i found some fairly disturbing things i put in there...these two crack rants were collages of words and words put together over many hours and when i finished making the collages i realised they were poems and for one of them i'd been sitting there for 6hours cutting up bits of paper.
they dont make any sense but im fairly certain i chose the words for a reason...who knows...disturbing..
this one is just before andrew came home....
The past
Just killed dick
post love
they can’t even look at
something from them as a word
his temper
beaten up
bands with a
kick
until a trip
gone serious
turns
decisions electric
from all
mistakes
that has ever been
Don’t run off
I’ve done pretty good
Don’t worry
Junkie beats getting way to drunk.
Independent,
Hid on purpose.
Way out.
Life becomes
This movement
Looks like it’s been pretty intense
Take a closer look.
You can say battered and bloodied
Lie ever made
Was I delusional
Cute and addictive
At the same time
Absolutely everything.
One stop high
If you walk
Around the world
Chicks
learn you will fit
In.
He’s still traumatized
Even deadly
Giving up before they planned.
This shouldn’t be happening
The very first time
Open about everything
She lives in some horrific violent
Can’t be named
Help with violent
After a failed runaway
Helps run faster
Really is fucked
Someone’s being violent
Overpower
Bathmat
Altered that much?
Girls who commit
Big liars
Aren’t so bad
Making so many mistakes
Was even harder
Trashed
More disturbing
I had some friends
Negative influences
Sleaze
No thanks
Was letting abuse
Was wearing tease
Video star
Gets a bit boring
Reason is unacceptable
Because we realised that they had
A fucking massacre.
Time to meet people we met
Collect faces
Best if I moved to live
SAVE YOURSELF.
===
this was made as the cover of a note book
He
As well as
Smoke
For her part
Says what she
Likes
So it’s a must
Even with
Your best
Twist to
Trench.
Collection really
And as a part of
Life
Evolved
Current icon
Different with
Pleasures of…
Friends have
The most accurate picture of
Strange.
Peace.
He’s introducing
Youthfully cool
Better still
It really crosses lifestyle in these
Window pane checked works
Torsoed
Is the perfect person
To cover both.
It’s the sweet
Showing,
Can hardly wait for
Inspiration
To pretty in.
Precious I was
A tub of fresh.
Some new changes to look out for
‘men are from mars women are from venus’Fur.
It feels real
Is original
Did you just slip into
Ritual?
The fanatically restrained
Move forward
Hard
Every day or night
Classic mostly beat
Versatile and adaptable
Anything you want
I remember
I wanted this
Matchstick
Around beautiful.
(front page)
him back base
say yes.
Trenches trimmed
With beaver.
The runway collection.
Fagotting sticking machine
Dress with wing fur
Present
Too divine
Their unique
Gossip
He says smiling
Jolly good
Life’s little indulgences
Action packed days behind
To counterpoint the season’s lines
Step into the night
Hook and fear
Watch from
Terms
Touching imaginaries
Age of innocence
Aims to ride on this
Vision the perfect
After everything
Fine
Innocence
Fire
Wowing the crow
All fancy
Everything goes attitude
With a lace shell
If I don’t like
Built up confidence
To embracing
Lessness
Fastest.
Following master
Permitted to remain
A bright choice
To kill.
Move forward
To become a true
Accident
Cultural phenomenon
A corner of hoy.
Im charming and someone you
Want to be around
Nothing but this
Less of fame
A face to remember
Leather suspender
Hirt dress is
Everybody
He declares
Bias cut
Shot
Puts 100 percent in to
Being balanced.
Categorisation details, please see
Nothing he says.
they dont make any sense but im fairly certain i chose the words for a reason...who knows...disturbing..
this one is just before andrew came home....
The past
Just killed dick
post love
they can’t even look at
something from them as a word
his temper
beaten up
bands with a
kick
until a trip
gone serious
turns
decisions electric
from all
mistakes
that has ever been
Don’t run off
I’ve done pretty good
Don’t worry
Junkie beats getting way to drunk.
Independent,
Hid on purpose.
Way out.
Life becomes
This movement
Looks like it’s been pretty intense
Take a closer look.
You can say battered and bloodied
Lie ever made
Was I delusional
Cute and addictive
At the same time
Absolutely everything.
One stop high
If you walk
Around the world
Chicks
learn you will fit
In.
He’s still traumatized
Even deadly
Giving up before they planned.
This shouldn’t be happening
The very first time
Open about everything
She lives in some horrific violent
Can’t be named
Help with violent
After a failed runaway
Helps run faster
Really is fucked
Someone’s being violent
Overpower
Bathmat
Altered that much?
Girls who commit
Big liars
Aren’t so bad
Making so many mistakes
Was even harder
Trashed
More disturbing
I had some friends
Negative influences
Sleaze
No thanks
Was letting abuse
Was wearing tease
Video star
Gets a bit boring
Reason is unacceptable
Because we realised that they had
A fucking massacre.
Time to meet people we met
Collect faces
Best if I moved to live
SAVE YOURSELF.
===
this was made as the cover of a note book
He
As well as
Smoke
For her part
Says what she
Likes
So it’s a must
Even with
Your best
Twist to
Trench.
Collection really
And as a part of
Life
Evolved
Current icon
Different with
Pleasures of…
Friends have
The most accurate picture of
Strange.
Peace.
He’s introducing
Youthfully cool
Better still
It really crosses lifestyle in these
Window pane checked works
Torsoed
Is the perfect person
To cover both.
It’s the sweet
Showing,
Can hardly wait for
Inspiration
To pretty in.
Precious I was
A tub of fresh.
Some new changes to look out for
‘men are from mars women are from venus’Fur.
It feels real
Is original
Did you just slip into
Ritual?
The fanatically restrained
Move forward
Hard
Every day or night
Classic mostly beat
Versatile and adaptable
Anything you want
I remember
I wanted this
Matchstick
Around beautiful.
(front page)
him back base
say yes.
Trenches trimmed
With beaver.
The runway collection.
Fagotting sticking machine
Dress with wing fur
Present
Too divine
Their unique
Gossip
He says smiling
Jolly good
Life’s little indulgences
Action packed days behind
To counterpoint the season’s lines
Step into the night
Hook and fear
Watch from
Terms
Touching imaginaries
Age of innocence
Aims to ride on this
Vision the perfect
After everything
Fine
Innocence
Fire
Wowing the crow
All fancy
Everything goes attitude
With a lace shell
If I don’t like
Built up confidence
To embracing
Lessness
Fastest.
Following master
Permitted to remain
A bright choice
To kill.
Move forward
To become a true
Accident
Cultural phenomenon
A corner of hoy.
Im charming and someone you
Want to be around
Nothing but this
Less of fame
A face to remember
Leather suspender
Hirt dress is
Everybody
He declares
Bias cut
Shot
Puts 100 percent in to
Being balanced.
Categorisation details, please see
Nothing he says.
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