Stepping into an alternate universe
Stretching a new skin over your forgotten silhouette
Long dark locks become
A short mess of brown hair
Soft sundress is soon replaced
By a white t-shirt
With a cigarette rolled up in the sleeves
And black jeans
With black high tops
Striking the pavement with
A confident stride
The fury of an animal
In her eyes
In his eyes
The ( Read more... )

I can’t say I am an artist
Nor am I an actress
Or a truly generous person.
I don’t know how to use an oven
Or a dishwasher
Or how to do laundry.
All in all
I am incapable of the simplest,
And most necessary of tasks.
I eat too much
I am quite selfish
And talk more than I breathe.
But I can promise you,
Swear to you
That I will do anything and everything
To make ( Read more... )

Labels.
Something you can type into Google and find a cure for
Schizophrenia.
Something to shout out in the hallway
Faggot.
A title.
A stereotype.
A confession.
My name is Sally Jenson, and I am an alcoholic.

Love is not having to worry about someone hurting you, not thinking twice before telling someone a secret because you aren't sure if it'll get out or not, love always has your best interest in mind, love does not fuck their ex boyfriend.

You will own no cardiovascular muscle in me.

They're just words, so why is it when I write down the exact same thing it doesn't sound the same?

(Ok so this is kind of a dream of mine, and to get the full affect, I'd like it if you'd listen to "Flightless Bird, American Mouth". Yes, I'm aware this entire scene was pretty much stolen from Twilight, but come on, it's a pretty fuckin awesome scene ( Read more... )

Using the word "fuck" after every other phrase doesn't make you a poet. Learn some new words.

I saw a shadow, and I knew that it wasn't mine ( Read more... )

And once again, Sydney Bird flies away to change the world with vocal chords made of gold.
Unfortunetly, as she took off, she tore my wings off as well.
Come home... 

I'm drowning in your self-loathing.