Eat.

If you want to save me,
Baby, come and save me then.
Why do I feel like your whore?















I'm going to make this longer, never fret. ;)

I just needed to write it so as not to forget it.

It's okay. I forgive everything.

I hope you know I loved you,
But you need to know I don't.
The problem still kills,
But you don't hurt me no more.
Your eyes, they're still the same,
But they don't see me no more.
My eyes, they're not the me you knew,
And they don't see you no more.
My fingers don't remember you,
My body doesn't feel your touch,
My mind, it doesn't think of you,
You're not mine, I'm not yours.
You used to cry when I did,
But you don't cry no more.
You used to laugh and smile at me,
But you can't hear me no more.
I used to believe that you'd love me,
But I don't love you no more.
I used to think your eyes would only see me,
But I don't know you no more.
You used to tell me "don't be scared",
But there's no us no more.

Halloween

fuck me, scare me,
satisfy me,
only thing that does this for me,
dressing up, or dressing down,
we will run all over town,
even if that loses me you,
next year here you'll be, i bet you,
love you, want you,
waiting for you,
of course, i'll always be here for you,
lipstick red, or blue, or black,
i always know that you'll be back,
favourite time and favourite look,
halloween; it's me you shook.


i'm like, totally super excited for Halloween.
i'm being a (sexy) rag doll :D
09/26/09 (a month exactly from my birthday!)

cha-ching.

Here's the money:

Knowing that love ends,

Makes you motherfucking rich.

And coming to accept it,

Makes you the motherfucking bitch.

Made me a bitch.

But I'm better off this way.

I think no matter what happens in life,

You choose whether it ruins you,

Or makes you.

And baby, this made me.

cliffs.

i am the edge.
the fucking gritty edge.
boys hang on and hang on and i shift and they fall.
fall for me.
hanging on gets addictive.
but you know that.

Dreams

He comes to her door.
She says, "Oh, here are your clothes."
And he takes her hand softly as she turns to get the bag of clothes and says,
"I'm not here for the clothes."
"Then what do you want, ----?"
"You." He looks at her with eyes full of nothing but sincerity, something she takes as vulnerability.
No one should ever show her vulnerability.
"It's you I want. I made a mistake, Amy. She was nothing.. I-I was confused.. I-"
"So you want me back now? Is that what you're saying?"
"Yes. Yes, that's what I'm saying."
"Then you're an idiot.
"If you think you can come into my home after months of humiliating me with that hag,
and get me back, you never, ever, knew me."
"Amy, I-"
"Shut up! Do you know who I am?!
I am Amy ------! And you are ------- --------!
And I motherfucking hate you! You are terrible.
And I am so much better than you in every way.
Hell, I'm hotter than you, even!
Here are you clothes.
You will never touch me again, kiss me again, hold me again, or tell me you love me again.
I will never be yours again."

My heart was broken. But it's not.

You can't have me.
What you can have is a choke.



"I love you", he whispered in her ear as he kissed under her jawline.
And now she wishes she would have said, "What the fuck? Get out."
But she didn't. She said it back.
And she dreams versions of this all the time, wishing nothing had ever happened.
This was the demise about her belief of true love.
He could have said anything else.
But he didn't.
And even if he did love her, he doesn't anymore.
But what can she do? Nothing.
And she doesn't love him either.
It's the saddest thing she's ever know; love ending.
Now all that's left is that dead feeling people get after the person they love
leaves.
Leaves forever.
And she'll find the perfect person. She will.
Just not for a long, long time.
But she's scared he's going to try to say it again.
She is actually scared of something that she's sure won't happen,
two completely conflicting beliefs.
It won't happen, for sure, but she is so scared.
So terrified of what she might have to do if he were ever to try to get in again.
In her life. She doesn't want it.
She truely does not want him back.
She doesn't even tell of all the dreams she has, going back in time and being mean while she could.
But she can't.
She was good. And nice. And not herself.
She's a bitch. A cold-hearted. back-stabbing-if-she-could bitch.
She hates him, she really does.
But she likes stories. She definitely likes stories.
And when dramatic things happen, she tells.
Like, if he were to say it again.
She would make it perfect.
Make up for everything she didn't say before.
"That is so fucked up. Get the fuck out. Get the fuck out of my life.
And don't you ever think you can turn back.
There's no turning room, and I'm not about to make some.
You'll only screw me over. And no one. Screws me. Over.
Ever."
She should have said that.
But she didn't.


Version of a dream 09/11/09
Dreamed 08/11/09
It's so true.

you can hate me, but i beat you to it.

Do you ever let your mind wander like I do?
Think of your life like every romantic drama you've ever seen.
Wouldn't you love it if they did beg you to take them back?
Tell you they love you and losing you was the biggest mistake they've ever made?
But they don't.
They just stop caring.
In 24 hours, all the love is gone.
You don't know how it happened, but it doesn't matter anymore.
You can't change a damn thing, so understanding isn't important.
And then you get to a point where you're happy you can't change anything.
You realize they're a prick and you want nothing to do with them, maybe.
Or you leave the city, and forget.
They've forgotten you.
And as hard as it is to come to terms with that, it's the truth.
A part of you will always want there to be a part of them that won't forget.
A part of them that will want you back, in some way or another, everytime they see you.
It's like that for some of us.
Maybe one or two past lovers would do anything to have you back if they got the chance.
But the problem with life is, no one knows what the most important thing is:
Love.
Whatever way you want it, healthy, toxic, fun, adventurous..
Love is everything.
Which is why people want there to be more attached to love.
They don't want to believe love, true love, can end.
But it can.
It does.
And maybe you want to convince yourself that person never loved you.
But sometimes the truth can't leave.
You know they wouldn't have cried for you that way, wouldn't have wanted to die for you,
if they never loved you.
Love is an easy thing.
And the hardest thing in the world.

Almost September 2009

things change.
like all your hair being cut off.
inspiration: Pixie Geldoff.

August 2009

July 09

KILLER!

Glamour is my name,
and I play the glamour game.
I don't care who you are,
as long as i like what you wear.
I change from week to week,
catch up if you can.
And if you can't,
don't let me catch you.
My mission is to make us,
all mindless in the end.
I hope we're all too-skinny,
chap-lipped, and puffy-eyed,
when I'm done here.
Hollywood at it's finest baby.
I like this hollow bitterness,
it's the foundation of haute-couture.
I bite my lip and raise my eyebrow,
and watch you crash/burn.
And if you get one bow out of line,
don't expect to be on the cover
of this month's Vogue.
This high-end world IS fashion,
and when you're all strutting around,
empty and done-up.
I'll be happy.
But honestly, if you ask her anyway,
living is better than dying,
and crying is better than lying.
She loves you, you know.
She wants you to win.
But if I'm God, she's Satan.
Are you Hell?

attention!

it's not a sin to get your attention,
i'm a sucker for attention,
will you give me your attention,
i need everyone's attention,
"calling everyone to attention!
i'm the speaker, pay attention",
what i'll say will grab attention,
but you need to take attention,
when i'm out to get attention,
i just have to get attention,
if you don't give your attention,
i won't give you my attention,
and i'll steal all the attention.

you're over me? good luck.

everything's wrong, and nothing's right,
i can't remember the last time i slept at night,
i want you bad, but i want you gone,
i wanna be with you and not on my own,
i want to play with you in the snow and the rain,
baby, i really want to laugh again,
i want you to understand when im sad,
i want you to follow when i wanna be bad,
i want you to be happy, and never be mad,
i never want to feel like you're holding me back,
i wish i could ask for the right amount,
i wish i knew when to stop ripping you out,
i want to sit under the moon and the stars,
i want to be in love the way that we are,
i'll figure out how and ill figure out when,
baby, i just want you here again.

written May 28, 2009
posted August 28, 2009
and i still feel the same.
save me.

I've always been this beautiful. You were blind.

can't shake this feeling
baby, my claws are out
and if you think anyone can get by without a scratch
you haven't been right about me for a long time
you're the one who made me so deliciously catty
eat up the blame, lovey
you just don't wrong me without getting a taste
i'm so much better than a bitch
and you got me rolling, baby
don't you just love me now?
i've given up on explanations
i don't give a fuck about closure
all i care about is you knowing that it isn't me who changed
it's all you
no, im still the same person
funny how you made that mistake
like i'd ever change into a nice person?
baby, you never knew me.
i want to believe you never did what they say
but it all makes sense now
you're a liar and a cheater
and no way do you deserve me.
i don't lie
but now i do so much worse
and nobody does it better.
nobody does bad like i do.
no one can make you feel the same way i did
and even if you get the feelings mixed up
no one knows you like i do.
and i hope you never find anyone as good as me
as good as me in any way
even at getting their claws out.

Fear, you creep, leave me alone.

baby, there are only liars,
but it's not so bad,
when the liars show you a good time,
it's the best time you can have.
i promise you i'm just,
as bad a liar as can be,
but if i say i'm lying,
could you still believe in me?
i forgot about love,
all i want is the fame,
throw in your money,
and you're playing my game.
i want to be bad,
more than anyone should,
play with me baby?
we both know you could.
you were addicted from the start,
you know just how i walk,
but be honest with me, babe,
you like it more the way i talk.
dirty, rich,
money's sick,
baby, tonight,
dirty's my pick.
no one can beat me,
i won't take it slow,
you can reheat me,
but don't make it slow.
i want to party,
want to be in the show,
you wanted me naughty?
it's the same me you know.

i like the way you make me know,
liars are the fastest slow,
only ones as fast as me,
liars, they all run the show.

where's your face?

V. O. G. U. E.
You just can't beat me,
You can try, but wait and see,
I'm everything you want to be.
Stamp it up and down the line,
It's no secret; you're all mine,
If you want me, it's alright,
They all want me, they're all fine.
Fashionistas dress me up,
Plastic, madness, it's all fucked,
Doctor, doctor, something's off,
Rip me open, have a look.
Lipstick, baby, I need you,
You keep me from being blue,
Colour me and make me real,
Can't live with or without you.

I(L).

The whole world lives in Montreal.
There are the fashion-parasites that spend their lives in the confines of glossy-floored boutiques, acquiring Gucci sunglasses, while their husbands drive around in polished porsches, waiting for the black-thong-under-white-dress saleswoman to point them in the direction of purchasing as many crisply lined suits as their money-stained fingers can hold.
The callgirls who walk the fishnet streets if you want a ride, a ride you can't get in your new BMW, no matter how smoothly it handles the bumps. They always remind me of myself.
The jokers on the corner, whose lives consist of teaching old dogs new tricks. Rest assured, they'll be back tomorrow. They actually need the money in the hat. And we all know you can all spare a dollar.
There are the girls and boys who are genuinely having fun, beating the past that stays in the back of their head, the back of their head where they're still winning. Winning, winning, winning winningwinning.
The businessmen who have no time for their families, that they've made and forgotten; they have too many stock options too think of anything else, you see. Their families don't want to admit it, but it's the businessmens' money they want, and that's the reason their wives are having affairs instead of ridding themselves of the radiation their headsets cause. I doubt the businessmen would care. But you're damn well sure they'd stage a hell of a show if and when they found out.
The painters painting on the sides of the road aren't actually as deep as you think. They just know how to use their talent. That's why they're done what is a work of art to you, but crap to them in about five minutes, and they sell it to you for a thousand pennies.
Whatever. I guess everyone wins here.
And oh, the tourists. They're all watered-down versions of the types mentioned and more.
But baby, everyone is lost and found and after money. I promise.