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My E m p i r e Of [D][I][R][T]

Created on 2004-10-23 22:10:06 (#4926168), last updated 2004-12-03

103 comments received, 81 comments posted

Basic Account [Gift]

37 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 2 Userpics

Basic Info

Name:	†.¤.beautifully.¤.decayed.¤.†
Birthdate:	05-12
Location:	Melbourne, Florida, United States

Bio

Hold me. Kiss me. Thrill me. Kill me.

Boys Kissing is Hot ::drools:: Love.

Ville Valo is love.
by

minnykittyat

xprezyourself

Mindless Self Indulgence is Badass Love.

Marilyn Manson is scary but sexy love.
by

minnykitty

Trent Reznor is the Perfect Drug.
by

minnykitty

Carmen Electra is Sexy Love.
by

minnykitty

Expressive Female Artists are love.
by

minnykitty

Donnie Darko is End of the World Love

WISEST WORDS EVER SPOKEN: [Kyle]

I live for those moments at 5:30 in the morning with a bottle of jack in my left hand and a lucky strike between my lips, but eventually I know those moments will have to stop, when I hit the real world, the kind of place mommy and daddy talk about. I can’t help but wonder which of us will make it and which of us wont.

I meet tons of gorgeous girls, drink tons of alcohol and do more drugs than you knew existed. My nights don’t end and food isn’t a priority when I’m spracked out or drunk Each week takes atleast four fold on my life and I’ll probably die when I’m 28, suicide or otherwise. I want to die a death that’s memorable and live the kind of life that teenage kids get starstruck over. The kind of life kid’s start doing drugs to obtain, the kind of life that makes me squirm.

My skins always crawling and my fingers are always tapping rhythmically against my handcuffed belt loops. I shouldn’t have done that speed. My nose doesn’t feel the same and my mouths always dry. I shouldn’t have snorted that cocaine. My stomachs been turning for weeks, I don’t think that alcohol was such a good idea. But this is who I am and this is who I love. I can’t enjoy sobriety the same because intoxication feels so numb.

No matter how I paint my face or how much hairspray I unload by the end of the day it’s always smeared and always burning. I always seem to wake up in that same gutter with that same empty bottle and that same empty pack just like my empty fucking heart. When you see me you see perfected powder and botox-free lips but when I see myself I see something rotten and something fake. Even without the cosmetics I’m bound to be a cancer patient and I can see the rotting flesh already.

I’m something rotting, a sellout, a drug addict, an alcoholic. It’s something violently beautiful but no matter how much I try to convince myself I’m just living life, because you know what they say, it’s to short. That ASSHOLE in the back of my head keeps reminding me I’m just making judgment day come sooner.

Oh well. I can’t wait to shut my eyes real tight and never ever wake up again. Maybe this is why mommy and daddy were always so worried about me doing drugs, smoking cigarettes and drinking alcohol.

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