Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Who Needs Blood When You Have Lipstick




I made a little doll of Marie Antoinette.


It's head broke off.


Is that supposed to mean something?




He sits at the end of my bed, reading me my life...
She has to nurse him back to health, his wings are broken. Sleepy, smoky kind of lazy. Big white feathers.
The earth, it tilts, begging us to suicide.
To decide to end the splendorific night.




I try not to imagine him hanging from the ledge. Try not to imagine him falling
I try not to die every day. But its been getting harder


I wanted passionately to know what it feels like to want something passionately.
They wanted to keep us from getting lost.

Beating out/looking in/the shameful smiles/the chesire grin/i’m the dog howling at the moon/ i am a stark mad raving loon
It hits me, baby take a bow. You’re nothing but statistic now
Fools separated by sheets/Stolen virtue/Delve into the streets/eat out of the gutter/’til the lights go on/at last.

You can't try to make sense out of this.
- Catatonic Angel of Solace

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