music. sex. fame.

she’s been missing.

for a while now.

days, weeks, months.

who knows?

where has she been?

i texted her.

i called her.

she’s gone.

an empty vessel.

rid your veins of its poison

that horrible mess

her life.

yeah, its been a mess.

scrub away the tears.

sweep away the misery.

wash away the pain.

clean. clean. clean.

that’s all she wants to do.

cleanse her body&soul.

the filth can be overpowering.

let her be.

I hate the way you talk to me,
And the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car,
I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots
And the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick,
It even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you’re always right,
I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh,
Even worse when you make me cry
I hate it when you’re not around,
And the fact that you didn’t call
But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you,
Not even close…
Not even a little bit…
Not even at all

feeling the bike moving underneath me

creates the feeling that i can fly

new places to discover

new paths to be explored

the warm sun bronzes my skin

my cheeks flush with color

my hair flows with the chill breeze

my dress moves with the speed

all the time in the world.

makes me realize that time is precious

&we must embrace each moment that we have.

yes, i can actually still feel it.

let party.

lets get FUCKED up.

i only have a few days left.

till my fate is decided.

i want to drink till i cant walk.

i want to smoke till i cant breathe

i want to hallucinate till i forget reality

i want to lose any feeling left in my body.

i want to play in my own blood.

i want to create new scars that with tell stories

i just want to partyyy

but the law wont let me…

“just take it..”

but you rejected.

&now all i have is myself

&its lonely.

i never actually told this to anyone but the reason i had to photo as the header of my profile was the fact that shes actually choking herself with the collar. she is inflicting her own pain &i can relate to that. that is something i constantly do. i find new ways to torture myself, to bring me to that point between reality&dream, to make me realize that im still alive eventhough i constantly feel dead.

reading&writing are def one of the best ways ive learned how to cope.

im currently rereading my favorite book “the fountainhead” by ayn rand because i need to be reminded that i have to be true to myself&not let anyone else’s decisions affect my own individuality.

&through this im rediscovering my own creativity.

red. black. white.

color scheme for spring. 

“the rise of the femme fatale.”

thats what im gonna call it.

still very playful&femme.

but dont let that fool you.

looks can kill. 

&i aint one lady to mess with. 

i hate the feeling. it makes me remember all the secrets ive kept locked up in the obscure part of my memory. so many memories i regret. so many memories i dont want to relive. the memories that ive tried to keep occult from everyone else.

i dont want them to know. i want to enjoy the merriment they feel. but in reality, it just killing me softly on the inside but they will never know the extremity of it all.

i feel like throwing up, not because of the poison in my system but because of the thoughts tied to it. if only they knew what it meant to me, the reality that i throw up more than they know. not because of this liquid poison, but because of the disgusting obstacles i face with my body&self.

the sun is out. 

its bright rays hit my skin

its warmth creeping all over my body

reinvigorated.

peaceful.

“lets go on a bike ride”

lets take it all in while its still out.

spring is here.

&I couldnt be happier.