Drop Dead, Gorgeous...
2003-07-31 @ 5:23 p.m.

Glitter-smeared whore. Black-lined eyes now black with bruises. Black-eyed whore. Petty slut. Slope-nose broken. Fist fight lost. Bad luck always comes your way, gorgeous. Bad luck always finds your way, gorgeous. And you lay around, clothes barely covering what they're intended to cover. Black-eyed whore. Glitter whore. Tufts of hair torn out of your china-doll head. Maybe they fell out on their own... Maybe not. Maybe...maybe we don't want you. We don't want you anymore. Porcelain skin torn. Fist fight lost. Again. Picking fights? No... Picking enemies? Choose your enemies. Or are you letting them choose you? Whore. You'll end up dead. Keep at it and you'll be dead. Dead. You'll drop dead, gorgeous. Drop dead, gorgeous.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

This entire entry is basically a threat. To whom? I don't know, yet.


Listening to: "My IQ" by Ani Difranco

<<before - after>>

The Weather Underground - 2008-11-12
- - 2008-05-06
She knows I can read. - 2008-05-06
William Jacobson - 2008-05-02
Lost Boys - 2008-04-30

everything © Claudia (2003-2008)