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Yesterday In Two Parts

Aug. 27th, 2009 | 04:18 pm

Cuts for lengths, darlings.

I don't think I want to be with my boyfriend anymore.
Part One: Trouble In ParadiseCollapse )


Part Two: Painting The Town RedCollapse )

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Just An Update.

May. 3rd, 2009 | 09:01 pm
mood: okayokay
music: Shadow on the Sun by Audioslave

The minute you settle for less than you deserve, you get even less than what you settled for.

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Nov. 30th, 2008 | 05:49 pm
mood: creativecreative
music: Warning by Incubus

I grip my pen so tightly.
Press the paper so forcefully.
The indentation remains for pages to come.


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Fucking Hysterical.

May. 29th, 2008 | 03:19 pm
mood: gigglygiggly
music: Starfucker Inc. by Nine Inch Nails

I had to share this with you.
Apparently someone told someone else on this website I'm on to kill themselves and the other person threatened to. This is what followed.

The Post:
on thisis50.com humans keep telling each other to "go kill yourself"

please do not go kill yourselves. <---I had a giggle fit right there.

While the internet is relevant, please do not go kill yourselves. Someone needs each of you to be very much alive.
yo mama needs you to stay alive
your family needs you to stay alive also
you menfolk cant get no pussy if you dead.
same for us ladies we cant no dick if we dead.
^I think that is funny on its own, but it gets better.

A reply by redbyrd:
lmao streets need to cut his throat his career is ova!!!!!!!!!!!!lmao ova here.gud one though grindstaff <---original poster

your welcome also redbyrd.

but i do not want young streetzz to kill himself either. streetzz is very enthusiastic in a bitter sour sorta way.

lol you really think so?

yeah redbyrd...look at how energetic when he fights back....kinda like a pit bull.

he doesn't just say fuck you. he says fuck you and the entire world in all caps, long detailed prose and declarative exclamations!!!!

he cursed the color right offa my page. even with all that i want streetz to stay alive.

I cannot fucking stop laughing.
My dad even came into to check up on me, the laughter was that loud and that consistent.

In detailed prose and declarative exclamations,
He cursed the color right offa my page.

*falls to the floor spasming from lack of breath.*

I love real ghetto ass people.


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Great Poem

May. 28th, 2008 | 02:00 am
music: Comin' Back by The Crystal Method

This one goes pretty great with some of the things said in the last post.

Dorianne Laux

Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook.
Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication.
Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punchline, the door, or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones
that crimped your toes, don't regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the livingroom couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smoky nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches.
You've walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You've traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied
of expectation. Relax. Don't bother remembering
any of it. Let's stop here, under the lit sign
on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.


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Fabulous; The Duchess of Malfi quote

May. 9th, 2008 | 03:35 am
mood: cheerfulcheerful
music: Darrell calling me Lady

"Whether we fall by ambition, blood or lust,
Like diamonds we are cut with our own dust."

-- Ferdinand's dying words. Act 5, Sc.5

This one is pretty cool too, just not anywhere near as meaningful:

"Diamonds are of most value
They say, that have pass'd through most jewellers

-- The Duchess, talking about remarrying

"Whores, by that rule, are precious."

-- Ferdinand, in response to the above quote
Tags: ,

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This one goes with my mood tonight.

Apr. 16th, 2008 | 02:41 am
mood: contemplativecontemplative
music: Wicked Game by Giant Drag

“Wanting to Die”
Anne Sexton

Since you ask, most days I cannot remember.
I walk in my clothing, unmarked by that voyage.
Then the almost unnameable lust returns.

Even then I have nothing against life.
I know well the grass blades you mention,
the furniture you have placed under the sun.

But suicides have a special language.
Like carpenters they want to know which tools.
They never ask why build.

Twice I have so simply declared myself,
have possessed the enemy, eaten the enemy,
have taken on his craft, his magic.

In this way, heavy and thoughtful,
warmer than oil or water,
I have rested, drooling at the mouth-hole.

I did not think of my body at needle point.
Even the cornea and the leftover urine were gone.
Suicides have already betrayed the body.

Still-born, they don't always die,
but dazzled, they can't forget a drug so sweet
that even children would look on and smile.

To thrust all that life under your tongue!--
that, all by itself, becomes a passion.
Death's a sad Bone; bruised, you'd say,

and yet she waits for me, year after year,
to so delicately undo an old wound,
to empty my breath from its bad prison.

Balanced there, suicides sometimes meet,
raging at the fruit, a pumped-up moon,
leaving the bread they mistook for a kiss,

leaving the page of the book carelessly open,
something unsaid, the phone off the hook
and the love, whatever it was, an infection.

Balanced there, suicides sometimes meet,
raging at the fruit, a pumped-up moon,
leaving the bread they mistook for a kiss,

leaving the page of the book carelessly open,
something unsaid, the phone off the hook
and the love, whatever it was, an infection.

I really need that abrupt escape right now.


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Mar. 8th, 2008 | 02:13 am
mood: creativecreative

Please don’t take offense to this, darling, but you dismay me.
I can’t leave you because I’m already too deep over my head in the bloodied waters of my heart To regain my equilibrium,
But staying here makes me lose my already incredibly fragile faith.
Where your words rang true, I came to realize how delicately they were meant,
And now where you want to make amends and recant, I can only

Remember the bittersweet taste of your lingering lips, akin to
The sweet subtlety of drinks taken from poisoned-rimmed cups.
[It should have been my distress call, when you couldn’t decide
Between gentle and precious,
Or ravenous and gnashing.
But now I know a little too late -
Those kisses were of a cynical symbolism that was not lost on me,
Though I ignored the city burning before me.]

I’m stumbling, stagnated between the realities of our love
And the reality I have come to know in my mind;
Of times breathtaking and as everlasting
As the internal conflict and anguish inflicted upon me
Through the mixture the doubt and the pride of the others long before thee.

I find myself fighting off ghosts -
Their words lingering in my conscience memory
Spoken through lives that no longer exist.
I find myself sinking my nails into the concrete edge of a building
Simply labeled by a discrete little sign: “Sanity.”
I find myself battered and bruised from the fall you bade me take alongside you;
I should have known better than to believe I could soar.

I wander the city, fast becoming a ruin before my ever-watchful, crystalline eyes -
The only bit of my being untainted by sorrow and demise.
In the distance, in the future, I see the countryside where we’ll retire to ourselves,
If only you’ll hold my hand and pull me up.
I miss this equilibrium that I first had, when the poison reached my tongue
And became the song of meaning to my life:

“This I beg of you darling:
Keep me in your sights.
I am yours evermore, if you’d just save me tonight.”

I find myself in halls that echo of your name.
When I reach the end and stare into shattered panes of glass
I know the truth.
My dismay is only the beginning of what you’ll do for me:
My fate is undoubtedly entwined with yours.
My soul remains intact only to call out to you.
This poisoned well I drank from was Hell that you called home.

I look to what I believe is up and daintily whisper your name.
I finally know what you have felt before you discovered me.
I at last see as you have seen.
These bones ache from the cold you have suffered,
While the flesh burns with desire.
This body fell fatigued before yours.
And I recovered my Peace;
My Peace I give you.

I swear.


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A Good Day.

Feb. 1st, 2008 | 09:14 pm
mood: restlessrestless
music: Sex, Drogen Und Indrustial by Combichrist

Rise early and wander over to the dentistry.
Ponder about the state of humanity while glancing at the Spanish talk show.
[He's not the baby's father, and she needs to have more of a care in her life.]
Let the eyes sweep over decent looking black man who is also waiting.
Could this be a new fetish? Dark chocolate decadence.

Be led to the chair. Be prepared.
Dull pains and aches.
Generous sprays of water.
Blood. Flowing. Through. A. Plastic. Tube. Down the drain.
Out of the body.

More bleeding.

Sick Fetish.

Walk out.
Entice the black man.
Walk out.
Walk like sex on the street.

Only blood gets me high.
Mix with some cocaine? Make my night.


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(no subject)

Jun. 15th, 2007 | 01:08 am
mood: hornyhorny
music: Bubble Pop Electric by Gwen Stefani

I am liking this idea better.
I have such long entries
That I might as well break it up like this
It's got to be easier for you guys anyway.
Enjoy the sickness

ComfortCollapse )

FetishesCollapse )

SexCollapse )

I can't remember if there was more that I wanted to address
But this is pretty good for one night.
I think it was an interesting entry,
Even if it was a bit strange.


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I describe myself well...

Apr. 20th, 2007 | 05:22 pm
mood: satisfiedsatisfied

I am nothing but
& Class,

& the one you see depends on what
you do each


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Stainless Steel Love

Feb. 19th, 2007 | 09:07 pm
mood: jubilantjubilant
music: Bamboleo by The Gypsy Kings

Today was a good day.

Alake Erashkigal woke me up at eight in the morning with a long tongue and stomping paws. I had a doctor's appointment at nine.
I hate going to the doctor's. It frustrates me to no end to go to a place where I don't need to be, and share a waiting room with old, complaining Hispanic people. The dentist is one thing-the bullshit checking of my breathing, which by the way is as regular as ever, is another all together.

But I love those machines they use to check your blood pressure.

If I could get one permanently around my waist and chest I would be the happiest fucking girl alive. I love that pressure, that feeling of enclosure.
It feels amazing.
It pleases me.

And then...

Blood Work.

I was send to another building altogether and the third story was dedicated to nothing but laboratory work.

Five glorious rooms dedicated to the exquisitely sensual act of piercing the skin with cold, predatory stainless-steel-tipped syringes; five glorious rooms where the blood ran freely through thin plastic veins to rush and drain into thick plastic tubes to be shaken, stirred, spun, and tainted by unnatural chemicals and ultimately disposed of; five rooms dedicated to the ultimate sacrifice of the human body-it's very life source used to flow out and away of it's maker for a better good.

Let it be known that it brings me to near orgasm every single, solitary time that I am asked to free my life of me.

I am a sick bitch.

And the doctor was a gorgeous man, skilled with his lovely, thick hands. He penetrated me from the side of the crook of my arm; virgin flesh never to have been touched by the Holy Grail that is a syringe.

Oh today was a damn good day.

I texted my beautiful Jersey boy and forgave him for our slight spat that we had last night. It was silly and he didn't know what he had truly done. I sleep things off anyway, and had a full night's sleep. He is all I currently want and there is no need to be bitter.

Burger King for lunch, Gabe texting for an extended dessert.

Picture taking in a blue dress.

Fabulous day.

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How you make me feel

Dec. 30th, 2006 | 01:41 am

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