it's kind of amazing what a person will do to fake a smile

mimicking repetitive values.

know what i mean?
what i mean?
what this means?

mistletoe kisses and 4pm hangovers

every year christmas loses it's touch.
that 6am bloodrush. children chasing reindeer feet on rooftop dreams.
a new one is approaching. beckoning.
swallowing pasts.

merry christmas.

next year i hope i'll be spending it with you.


loveetc

splinters and coffee tables

ouch.
i always want what i can't have.
when the fight is too easy i feel like i've already left.
battle's mutate into wars.
you'll never understand this. you'll never get it.

what you've got means shit to me

hey baby, tonight i'll be lost in the city lights
drinking myself under the table.

let's go and let some bad decisions make us.
touche.

hairspray hearts

someday we'll get on a train and only get off when we're at the other end of the world.
that's when you'll really see what goes on in my head.
and you'll work out what i am.

and you'll never see it coming.
sorry.

18

today was truly, awesomely brilliant.

thank you.


loveetc

katiebeth xo

ladies and gentlemen, may i present...

the most fabulously pathetically self-centered and insecure asshole to waste our air.
she has a list of faults longer than the one of names saved for judgement day.
everything you hear is always true.
gold.
no one matters when your world circulates for airwaves.
"don't stop me now", i'm making legacies and you're history.
everyone changes, but this one is mutating.
avoiding mirrors like cracks in the sidewalk.

they're dying to be different
parading variations of smiles.
drugstore romeos and streetcars.
elysian fields lead to cemeteries.
breaking hearts and banks simultaneously.

fuck you all.

hello darling, this is just a note to say

i never believed you anyway.

flamboyantly decorated with pictures of the murder scene

we all have landmarks in the form of stains on t-shirts.
that doesn't mean we're the same. we're nothing but legacies and newspaper cuttings.
antique lipstick sticks to vintage pictures of bands we once loved.
that didn't love us back.
live shows that where we screamed to make our throats bleeds.
his is the twelfth night. this is much ado about nothing at all.
everyone's spectacular.
kindergarten blood lusts.
heart beat symphonies.
i can hear everything you think.
vials of poison line kitchen sinks.

searching for the emergency i left when i called in.
everyone runs when you lose the decoration.
dust and ashes.

a box of rocks

this gold is too new to touch.
i have nightmares of getting burned -
somehow we just can't learn.
backstage london, glasgow alleys.
feet trapped in gutters as flood rise.
freeze or fall away.
breathing through gaps in the generation.
breaking fingernail on window panes, scratching your way out.
the seventeen year itch. witches set alight.
i want to burn in the dead of night just to keep this spark alive.

i want to watch the moon rotate a while in your eyes.

my floor is littered with rejected lyrics, tantrums and cold cups of coffee

i keep my best ideas under the bed
pressed against the monsters i found in my head.
bad dreams. reversable fantasies.

lately every picture i see of myself makes my mind churn.
stomach acid burn.
i wake up in the morning and imagine i'm anyone but me, anywhere but here.
i'd even be her if i had half the chance.
my mirror has glazed over from lack of use. i'm tired of seeing reflected insecurities.
if only some one could see what i see.
i'm rolling my eyes at myself with every word i breathe.

thank you for loving me regardlessly.
maybe some day i'll try doing the same thing.

disputes

circles are closing in
swallowing
breaking barriers of politics and sexuality.
we've all got stories to spill into strangers laps.
everyone has a message and a legacy to leave behind.
some of us cry into pillowcases, or down wrists -
drips of tears off fingertips.
we're holding onto cracks in our foundations, fixing brickwork with smiles we force onto lips.
this is going to be a long night.
monsters under the bed haunt you even when your eyes are wide
everything's resting on this line.
tomorrow is nothing more than wasted time.
take both her hands in yours and feel the feeling of feeling adored.

maybe it'll all be worth it after all.


loveetc