Girl Interrupted

How much will you choose to indulge in your flaws? What are you flaws? Are they even flaws at all?

Face

I wish I could see a real human face that I could recognise. Look in to their eyes and feel something. I don't think my eyes feel anymore. Where is my face?

Museum

In the museum
We stand as RELICS
Watched by those remnants of the past.
Ageless


Priceless
SUBSTANCE


There eyes see so much?
Stone eyes.
Jewel eyes.
Secret eyes.
No eyes.


We are the oddities?
We are categorised and stored.
Our individuality arranged and seen.
Time has been so       long.


These gods and goddesses.
Saints, serephins. Share your secrets...
I wish I could open my eyes and see your stories. Instead I have to
close THEM.
I. We are just flesh.
You live. You see the heart of the world in time.

Debbie Harry

Debbie Harry was/ is total hotness. Is it possible to be that cool? Total icon.

My (very un-) surreal thoughts.

My surreal thoughts at this very moment are not very automatic. Fairly obvious. The mouse. the mouse running across the floor means a lot. I hear a constant rustling. Constant dirt. Constant bits. Bits all chewed up. Dry bits. Wet bits. They all seem to resemble wood. Maybe the house is crumbling under this one gargantuan mouse. The mouse now is associated with bright bright orange. Plastic bag. Mouse. Wooden bits. House. Maybe even recycling. Does the mouse eating my rubbish mean I am recycling?
Penny.
USB stick.
Vodka.
I can't get the sheet to stay on my bed it always peels off on the corner I sit on. Oh well. It is all pretty dirty and uncomfortable anyway. Changing the sheets makes it worse. The sheets are stained.
My life seems to be all piled up.
Piles and piles of things. Dirt. Things. Dirt. Things.
Maybe I will al be piled up. I feel a bit piled up. My cells all piling together. Stuck. Sometimes my muscles feel so stuck. What happens when there is no more space in the ground to fit everyone in? Will we just be an earth of piled rubbish and dead people and things? Walking on a crust of .. well something.
I never lock my door. Maybe I should. It has three locks. I am so scared of getting locked out though. No thats not it. I am just lazy about the careful things.
The rubbish needs to go out other wise this mouse makes a mess.

It is in the eyes

Burton knows how to create something beautiful. The haunted. The lost.  The strange. The gothic. The sad. The unrequited. The romanic. Johnny Depp as Edward Scissorhands.

Manifesto in a Matchbox

1. Always (everyday) (at some point!) apply with a pen or with make -up A STAR beside the outer corner of my right eye and A SPOT (The "beauty" kind) above the left corner of my top lip.
2. On special occasion add GLITTER.
3. This may be further elaborated on.