Sunday, August 30, 2009

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.

Friday, August 28, 2009

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.