Journey's through Arcadia

St Jude and coffee.

2011-12-10T13:35:00.000-08:00

I've waited a hundred years.

But i'd wait a million more for you.

Nothing prepared me for

What the privilege of being yours would do.

If i had only felt the warmth within your touch,

If i had only seen how you smile when you blush,

Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough,

I would have known what i was living for all along.

What i've been living for.

Your love is my turning page,

Where only the sweetest words remain.

Every kiss is a cursive line,

Every touch is a redefining phrase.

I surrender who i've been for who you are,
For nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart.

If i had only felt how it feels to be yours,

Well, i would have known what I've been living for all along.

What i've been living for.

Though we're tethered to the story we must tell,

When i saw you, well, i knew we'd tell it well.

With a whisper, we will tame the vicious seas.

Like a feather bringing kingdoms to their knees.

Written by: Ryan O'Neal (Sleeping At Last)

I want to run away to Forks with my boyfriend. But he may not be happy about it. :) Check this song please on Youtube please. Ta xoxo

Let me sign.

2011-10-11T16:27:00.000-07:00

I may have already posted that title in a previous post. Ah well.

Say I'm a bird..
Your a bird.
Now say your a bird..
If your a bird, I'm a bird.

I'm going to gush about how much I love my boyfriend now. Heads up. First I'll tell you about him.

.He hates The Notebook and Twilight and MCR passionately. He in fact hates all of my music. Especially Sonny Moore. :)

. He's peculiar. Very much so. He adores black and death metal and smokes roll ups. His hair is golden coloured regardless of the look he gives me when I state this fact.

. He's known in our friendships circle as a bit of a legend one supposes. If you can call him that haha! Everyone knows him, everyone can quote at least two absurd and brilliant things he's uttered either inebriated or sober. An example being "I've always thought of pork scratchings as a pigs jigsaw."

. He works very, very hard. Is kind but extremely stubborn and secretive. I don't believe he has a malicious, deceptive or calculated bone in his beautiful carapace.

. Even though he feels passionate disdain for my own adoration's, he let's me jump on him in bed and pronounce loudly "SAY I'M A BIRD!!!!!!!!" and let's me go on about Edward Cullen and Renesmee Cullen until he's shaking his head in disbelieve that I can feel such love for two completely fictional characters.

. He let's me cry at Harry Potter and Romeo & Juliet. And any other film that I feel a bit teary with. And he'll hug my back while I'm doing it.

. Doesn't get mad when I'm a complete pain in the ass.

. Makes me feel sexy and beautiful even if I'm sat in his hangover hoodie with flat non ommph hair and no make up and or make up sliding from my face. He will always kiss me softly on my cheek and pronounce that I'm pretty. Even if I'm facing the wall in a strop because I feel like a gross whale.

. And he's a demon in the sack. Aha. That comment is going to gross out a lot of my friends who may read this. Ha.

All silly and cliche lines aside, I've been battling some health problems lately. Bad ones. And truth be told I've been very depressed, constantly in pain and the infuriating tirade of useless GP's and stream of antibiotics and worries of money can do that to a person. I've been very low. And to top it off the illness I've been battling is quite a physical one, so attractive factor takes a huge beating. And you just feel as if your whole life is crashing down around you and you're helpless to actually do anything. The last thing you want to do is try and make yourself look respectful and cater to your partners needs as well. Selfish as that is. The Boy has held my hand through all of this and still looks me dead in the eye with love and trust and tells me it will be okay. And I hug my body close to him at night to elevate my shivering and slow my rapid breath, I need him next to me in that time of pain. He's calm and collected, he doesn't show me that he's afraid or concerned because he knows that's not what I want. I just want him there. And there he is. At the drop of a hat. He kisses my pain away when my face is scrunched up in agony at three in the morning. He brings me food in bed and doesn't say a word when I'm locked in the bathroom for half an hour. He doesn't make me feel embarrassed, on the contrary; he makes me feel okay with telling him the yucky bits. He does all this without complaint, as if he found me and his soul duty is to look after me with care free brilliance. Like second nature. He's my entire security, just him. A body, holding my own, face in my hair with light breaths as I fall endlessly into a restless slumber. He makes me feel beautiful when my hair is matching Tim Burtons and my face is blotchy and pale, he knows when to tell me this, and he'll hammer his point home until I stop moaning about my face. "You are pretty." "Sexy, sexy, sexy" "You are the most beautiful." He says in soft whispers while I'm facing him.

I didn't think after everything I went through with Edward I would find the person I can truly be with. With Edward it was painful, erratic, passionate, hate filled, beautiful and dangerous. I loved that man with every fiber of my body, my mind and body shut down when he left me. I was broken. But I healed slowly, I learned to feel pain and endure it. Then I found my Shane. The most beautiful little surprising occurrence I have ever known. He sauntered into my life slowly with cigarette in hand and a passion for comics in his head. I found myself adoring my Tuesday night Cider Bar trips to see him. I found myself realising I could like him. And here we are. I love The Boy in a very different way too Edward. I love him irrevocably because I can trust him. I can give myself, body and soul to him fully because I have no doubt in my mind that he loves me. And sometimes I look at him and surprise myself as I'm literally beaming with pleasure I'm sure. Knowing that I am very lucky (albeit rather poorly) to have found a person that makes me a better and stronger person. He makes me love being alive. He makes me love him every single day more. With a word or picture in my head he's conjured. My fingertips know his fingertips and I still get a kick out of exploring parts of his silhouette that I hadn't before. The flatness of his chest, the groove of his spine even to the stubble on his cheek. Every part of him I could easily drink and soak up the very scent of him. The best part is that these huge feelings of love are now easy to control. No uncertainty. And the funny thing? I sincerely know, he doesn't know he does it. His obliviousness is beautiful. And I love him. Always.

"None of them can hold a candle up to you.' xoxo

2011-10-10T14:29:00.000-07:00

Tell me Doctor how to shake. Ergh. I feel horrid.

I've stolen the Boys Macbook and am playing Pokemon. Because I've clearly regressed to the infant stages, well actually not so much the infant stages as the prepubescent grumpy preteen stage wherein I communicated in a series of huffs and was permanently attached to the nearest electronic device. Not much has changed then? Ha now pull the other one. I'm in tremendous amounts of owies and have no bloody clue what to do. Guesses are that I have to endure this terrible bout of illness and try and earn some money. Well that's all very well, however tis rather difficult to fit little kiddlit's feet's when you can hardly bend of for the pain in your back, hips, ribs and you have the frankly annoying need to pee every two minutes. Fairly awkward in retail don't you think?

Yuck. I feel gross too, as if my insides are very wrong. I feel peculiar and sick. I know now how the Queen of Hearts felt when her roses weren't painted all red. My natural balance has shifted. She felt right in a green garden light. I now take solace in a hospital bed.

Huh. Loooook aren't I just funny. a month of writers block and out pops a little gem from nowhere. Or Wonderland. Which ever you'd prefer. The Boy has either put a tshirt in my bag from his flat to make me smile in a cute, 'I'm not really going anywhere, here's your favourite tshirt of mine to remind you of me while I'm at work' gesture. Or he's put it there by accident. As much as I have the utmost faith my boyfriend is a most dear romantic soul (in his own 'let's watch Goodfellas naked with Doritos and pancakes.' way) I don't think it would stretch that far, but regardless of all that I'm snuggling into it like a blanket. And if that's wrong then I seriously don't want to be right. As the saying goes. What is it about that Ed Sheeren song? The A Team? Gorgeous but really sad. Anywhoo. My foot has gone to sleep. And that's exactly what I should be doing. Sigh in short, I suppose the only things I may count on now are cuddles with The Boy, a cheeky menthol, and cranberry juice. Hopefully these things shall combat my daily pains and disdains. Frankly though in the words of darling me; 'Life ain't supposed to be like this.'

I like these quotes tonight.
. "You cant come in on a sunday with a big banana, and expect everything to be peaches"
. Don't jump the Shark before you save the Whale"
. "It isn't as hard to be happy as you're making it."
. I'd rather die on my feet than live on my knees.'
. “Life is full of beauty. Notice it. Notice the bumble bee, the small child, and the smiling faces. Smell the rain, and feel the wind. Live your life to the fullest potential, and fight for your dreams.”

Goodnight lovers. Listen to this song and remember what it was like to be 15 again. And fucking dance. 'Lion Skin (ft Jonny Craig)- Hands Like Houses.

If life is hard for dreamers then I'm happy within the difficulty.

2011-08-29T15:19:00.000-07:00

:) I'm still happy. Surprisingly so! I'm going to ramble slightly for this post. Ta and thanks x

I miss the Boy already and it's been all but 6 hours? Silly really. His arms have a truly wonderful way of holding me close, his fingers caress the curve of my spine, then slowly he curves his fingertips up to my neck and holds me there strong and primal. He handles my face softly and brings me to his kiss, while his body moves with my own. I love exploring him, I love trailing my fingers down the heady scented curve of his neck and jaw. I adore feeling the coarse ends of his fingertips and stroking the light weightlessness of his golden hair. When he’s crouched over me in a darkened room I find myself holding the supple flesh of the bottom of his hips, urging him to be closer to me. I reach out for him when I’m alone, my own fingertips willing to touch him. My body aches for him longingly.

"Shaven cheek
And golden hair
Makes the wretched week;
Easier to bare."

"I’m going to go insane.
This endless yank of ovary tugs
My hips arch in an uncomfortable manner
The sensation is absolutely maddening
As it pours out of my body; I feel nauseated
The ache after ward is worse
The waiting...
Trying so hard not to feel anything
But it comes in wretched waves
And confines me to the bathroom
Where I feel heavy, hefty and horrific
And wait slowly
For the episode to pass
My body is on fire
And there’s no way to quench it
Like a liquid sand timer; it drips
And my belly heaves
I become delirious and rabid with the confinement
I want to scratch my womanhood out
And wash away any evidence of X chromosome’s
If it means I don’t have to endure this any more..."

"His soft golden hair soaked slightly in a sleeper's sweat, caresses my cold shoulder as we are dimmed by artificial light. His broad silhouette is hidden by black blankets, engulfing his form, distorting it from view. He hunches his shoulders slowly while his is stirred from his slumber softly...A part of tousled hair hangs across his flushed cheek, his flushed cheek painted by night's sleep."

All words originally written by me...blah, blah, blah. I've missed writing on here. :) LOADS. Excuse me I'm going to go dream about Dallas voice, Desperado's, a broad silhouette and cheeky grin at the movie's today. Ciao Bella. xoxo

Happy.

2011-03-22T16:04:00.000-07:00

Smiles all around. Like sickeningly so. :) I have found myself in a state of complete and utter bliss. Adhered by chemicals, cider or cigarettes. But those things help the feeling along tenfold of course. Standard. I've found something or namely someone who is quite possibly the easiest person to get along with EVER. And he essentially I suppose is now considered 'my other half' Couldn't literally be happier with everything right now. Lame and gushy I know, spare me the lecture. I'm happy. I'll start using another synonym in a minute ahaa.

I wrote this in my head while watching Silverstein play in Bristol last night. I kept having snippets of previous evening's in with the Boy pop randomly in my head and frankly it got distracting. ;D Enjoy beautiful's, and rate the song yeah? It's fucking fabulous. Power kudos to the insanely awesome, beautiful, smart, funny, and mental Emma Willatt for sticking it on one night while pre drinking pints of rum. :)

I’m faking colour in my cheeks with passed down blush.
And I have heady confidence to look my lover in the eye when the lights are off.
His warm breathe creases my neck with a soft hush.
As beatific notes dance aloft; and his kisses remain soft.' ♥

Hindi Sad Diamonds, Jeff Buckley, soft hair and coffee.

2011-02-28T14:13:00.000-08:00

OH. Flat hair and no make up? Shameful. :)

I have a permanent smile on my face. Don't pry readers, let me bask.
I wrote this a few weeks ago when I was freezing in my sub zero flat...I think it's fitting but I'm unsure if it's finished. I can feel an ending to it? That's for another day though I think. See what you think loves;

'2 Exeter Rd.'

All I know is the trickle of cold water
washing down my sin soaked neck
The chink of copper pennies on the merchant's counter
Feeling as the ice does in the freezing winter
Raptures of intense lust provide me with warm;
when evenings turn dark
Like the mould on tea cups, I can survive on that
And as my scruffy head hits bargain bought pillows
My mind wanders of dreams where the Gas may be paid
and I could smile once more
Because I'm warm.

Haaa I do believe my Ipod has skipped onto a bit of HIM? Amazing. :)Good night you lot, I'll write more when I can be arsed. My mind is a preoccupied presently. ;) ♥

Skull rings and Fool Killer.

2011-02-03T12:49:00.000-08:00

Soon please?????

I don't know how to use my Gas card. =/ So I'm ignoring the situation and reading comic books instead. Fair trade in my opinion. Ergh, I think I need some serious and dramatic changes in my life bearing the following as examples; not eating my weight in crisps and being a hermit in my room on my days off playing video games. I should at least pretend I'm feminine. ;)

And Gabor heels and tight pencil work skirts do exactly that. Too bad that all I really feel like doing is wearing my Batman pjs and watching Judd Apatow films. So comes the rely and all that jazz. Currently nursing a HUGGGGGEEEE headache. I wonder if people are really happy when they wake up? I don't think anyone is, truthfully.

I'm happy when I can be surrounded by the people I fucking love. And the ones that make me smile. :) Oh and when Dallas is playing constantly on my Itunes. Especially when I get made amazing cupcakes by a beautiful girl. Even more so when I get too giggle into a pint of cider all night with 4 v.rad people. Considerably more when one in particular is literally ace. :D How about when you get those singular, secular moments of sincerity when a mental memory, song, food, idea, joke or picture makes you smile for no reason at all. Imagine those times when all you want to do is cry but alas you realise that you're not starving or dying, but you allow yourself grief and as you finish sobbing, that warm sense of peace washes over you in waves and you can finally breathe again? Or how about when you remember the person you adore tells you they love you? Even more so when you realise you won't cry over them any more?

The hardest thing in life is to live in it. Spend your years with people that make you smile, blush, laugh, snort, shout and dance and all will be well. Believe me, take it from someone who has had double the weight of the world on her shoulders in her small 21 years of being on this dear Earth. The sorrow I've been succumb too means nothing because I know I can surround myself with amazing things and people. Be it a flat in France or scraping your pennies together to get a drink in Ye Old. Either way you swing it, I'm finally being able to accept reality. Sort of. Because they do say, reality's a lovely place...but I wouldn't want to live in it. :) Goodnight kidssss, Im'a go watch Beetlejuice. xxx

"What a fool am I, to fall so in love"

2011-01-15T12:49:00.000-08:00

I'd like to think I only love you because you reminded me of the 'Unnamed Narrator cum Edward Norton type character' in Fight Club. Not true...I love you in strange and dangerous ways. But not as painfully. You've left this island and I'm happy for you; But I feel like some distance from any amorous feelings would be a VERY good idea at the mo. "Put a gun to my head and paint the walls with my brains. Just great, I say. Really."

I think my life is slowly crumbling down...

Again. I suppose. In a way.

This week I like; mango body butter, too strong coffee and my white snuggle duvet.
I hate; having a cold, Canada, & being Jack's broken heart.
Life is hard for lovers. Especially unrequited ones.

Ye Old shop shoppe.

2010-12-13T09:55:00.000-08:00

The gentle rustle of masking tape;
brushes my shin as my feet scorch
A most heavy heat circulates heady around the beamed rooms.
As children run in scared and unaware, with measure in hand,
I stare.
Into the future
With little care.

Basically I feel elated. From the gorgeous music blaring from my speakers. I feel happy. I am happy. I'm also manic. I feel as if I could burst, my lungs are heaving with the cadence. And then I have to fall? No! Please, let this euphoria last for a lifetime and more!!!....

And then I'm alone again. Sometimes I wonder what it is like to be mediocre, too not feel music, poetry and art. To feel so, so empty. I wonder...did you know?

...when I was small; I used to sketch the flowers on strangers graves and water them of my own accord. Because I couldn't bare to see them die...much like there owners.

And also I would sit by my window of one of many houses in Devon (unbeknownst to me that I lived a mere few minutes away from my first love) and stare at the green trees that engulfed my garden; whilst doing so I would ponder things that must be pondered at such a age (Lego.) and gently sing a song about the things I could see.

Life is short, grab a few friends, a few books, a few more bottles of wine and find a lake and or stream to all cuddle and giggle near. And look up into the sky and find shapes in the clouds that only your own eyes can create. ♥

Essentially I feel stronger.

2010-12-06T07:15:00.000-08:00

When life throws you a hard curve ball, one as a human is programmed to do one or two things; lie down and take the inevitable pain, or clamber away stumbling from the oncoming hit. I feel as though I have done both of these things. You see loves, I find myself to be a very strange little person. Full of brooding and self regret and loathing. I fell in love with a man whose emotional range is that of a fucking teaspoon. And my god did it hurt. And it still hurts darlings,; especially when I see him strolling through the local bar and sharing a laugh with a prettier specimen. But I have realised that there's only literally so much a heart can actually take, it gets to a crucial point where you have to look back on your broken body and say ENOUGH.

You see, I hate pretty much everything about my little old façade. I suppose he never really helped either, what with all the rejection. I have excepted (with a lot of screams and pain) that he won't ever love me as I love him. Irrevocably. And I've found in some way, that that's okay. I can't force him to love me and I can't expect for him to stay here and fall in love. No. I have accepted that I have a unrequited love whom has given me such passion in my blood, such fire, that I shall write about it for decades to come; and have him to thank for it. Love, my dears is a harsh mistress intent on burning all whom comes close to her amber flames. A fickle fiend that feeds on the hearts of those who dare open them. A temptress of violent delight. And we all fall, and that's not a bad thing. I'm not a weak individual for falling in love. I still am very much in love, however my heart is still healing and who knew that a broken heart could still beat fast. Love's, there is a new cause to my new found palpitations.

This is something new. This is something less painful. This is actually genuine contentment and happiness. I find them all so, so rad. And intriguing, like the morning dew. We hang. :) Haahaa, a little stickla for you there. ;D But in all seriousness I find myself very much drawn to hanging out with the 3 new boys that have entered our lives, especially one I suppose in a way. I'm pretty sure he is the doppelganger gender reversed version of yours truly. He's a bit of a hero. We all talk of nothing and everything and one in particular shows me comics I have never read. I think he interests me more than Edward did, in the respect that I hope he actually likes to hear what I have to say about comics and games and the like. And that is more awesome than anything at this moment. I suppose it's natural to feel drawn to a bunch of people who make you laugh when you've had a year of complete and utter sadness. I thank them weirdly for what they have subconsciously done for me. Needless to say, I won't shed my tears for Edward any more. I will not scream myself to sleep and I will never look in the mirror and imagine what he hates about my face. I am done. I am slightly happier. I suppose, Kinda. In a way. I have amazing, beautiful friends, that give me the strength I believed Edward gave me.

I wish him every single happiness in the world but I don't want him to possess my heart any longer. I hope when he leaves, as he boards, he'll look back and give me a second thought. However given the events prior to this awe inspiring revelation of a blog spot, I won't hold my breath. Because I've been struggling to breathe for so long. Now the winds are clear and I can taste air once more. :)

You heartless bastard.

2010-10-11T15:55:00.000-07:00

Oh and how you've ripped mine out. How you acted along with those soft words said and gentle kisses met. Whilst the moon rolled down, we lay together embraced with it's light dancing on our white skin. How you held me. How you whispered smooth beats of breath on my shoulder. Caressing your fingertips down the curve of my spine as I poured my heart out for your enjoyment.I remember your small singular smile when I pleased you, the flash of teeth was enough to make my heart stop. Most of all I remember that even though our nights where brief, I felt complete for once. I felt strong and wonderful being with you, near you, close to you. You gave me unknown strength. I could of given you the universe. I could have been anything you asked. But you left.

And now? I feel like a huge hole has been punched through my chest. My existence is erroneous. All I want is too fall down on the floor and stay there, curl myself tight and just scream. But I've got to continue my monotonous reality without you to make me feel alive. That is terrifying, my heart hurts severely with every second of knowing that you don't want me any more. I always thought I belonged with you. I was wrong clearly. I can spin lines of strong words to my friends about how you're an asshole who doesn't deserve my love but I'm such a terrible liar. We both know I would do anything to be back in your arms. That makes me pathetic? No. It makes me a human in love. He's the pathetic one for taking advantage of it. But he's my pathetic lover. And I don't want anyone else. Ever.

Do excuse the bad writing. My tears were fuzzing my concentration. x

Do you have a heart to break mine?

2010-09-09T15:37:00.000-07:00

I'm losing him.

I'm losing him and I can feel it, the ever surrounding black when he is absent seems to seep into the corners of my monotony more so these days. And I can't think of how to hold him. How to show him that I do truly love him, and that in turn, he may find it in the empty, merciless and pitiful wasteland he calls his heart to show some genuine adoration and warm feelings towards the one person who could make his short time left on this disgusting little island worthwhile. But no. I get ignored, I get monosyllabic answers, I get hurt once more. The problem is I won't ever relent. He'll leave this country forever and I, the scribe shall shatter all hope of knowing love and descend deep into my darkness and hope that one day my writing becomes so profound that not even Zeus himself could stop my scorn. I love you Edward. I really wished I was good enough for you.

You don’t want me, no
You don’t need me
Like I want you, oh
Like I need you

And I want you in my life
And I need you in my life

You can’t see me, no
Like I see you
I can’t have you, no
Like you have me

And I want you in my life
And I need you in my life

You can’t feel me, no
Like I feel you
I can’t steal you, no
Like you stole me

And I want you in my life
And I need you in my life

♥

My god. :)

2010-08-23T15:03:00.000-07:00

The stars are aligned,
But they don't align for us
Excuse me for I am the ocean
And I will starve for you
Will you know how to stay brave?
Such fragile moments we share
You are my every thing
And even with nothing to say.

♥ I am euphoric, I adore you. With all my heart. You touched deep into my soul and rendered me breathless with your actions and movements. Can I have you? Can I have you? Can I have you? Can I have you? :) This smile shan't fade too soon. xoxo

Prolific evenings in with Buble & gin.

2010-08-17T15:06:00.000-07:00

"Feel the pleasure in the very marrow of your bones; share it fairly with your lover, say pleasant, naughty things the while. But if Nature has withheld from you the sensation of pleasure, then teach your lips to lie and say you feel it all.
Unhappy is the woman who feels no answering thrill. But, if you have to pretend, don't betray your-self by over-acting. Let your movements and your eyes combine to deceive us, and, gasping, panting, complete the illusion" Ovid's Poem, Mrs Amatoria
(The Art of Love) (c. 1 BC)

Phenomenal. :D Seems like us ladies where taught at an early era, that brilliant act of faking the little old climax. Beautiful, made me smile as I was flicking through my sex advice book. Also found a few stanza's in my book on vice that I found irrevocably intriguing;

"One way or another, kissing is as indispensable as scratching." - Louis-Ferdinand Celine, Journey to the End of the Night.

"I'm forgetting the 'slave':
On bended knee he'll crave
To be allowed to clean your lavatory,
And when you've stripped him
And whipped him
Mercilessly,
Asks: 'Do you get many like me?"- A London prostitute of the 1960's

"I can imagine that he knew how to excite a girl to the highest pitch, so that he was certain that she was ready to sacrifice everything. When the affair reached this point, he broke it off without himself having made the slightest advances, and without having spoken a single word of love, let alone declaration, a promise."- Soren Kierkegaard, Diary of a Seducer(Reminds me of my unrequited beloved. Sigh.)

You know ladies and gents what baffles me in this day and age is peoples subconscious prudence to lust. Surely we accept these days that lust is a very natural feeling, one so deeply buried into our own blood that it has no habit of shifting especially when men like Michael Buble exist. Lust, my dears is essentially in my opinion what binds us all as humans together. It is an sensation even the most stony faced and or pious feel. We understand lust naturally. We accept lust freely when the situation arises. It course's through our veins and settles on our hidden sex with intense heat and desire in a dark evening with a calm and steady lover breathing heavily with the scent of heady beside. But god forbid one talks freely of it, or for that matter expresses it so! Hmph. I may be a girl of 20 but the last time I checked I'm fully developed. Ta and thanks.

I'll admit, I'm a dirty prolific, give me leather, something very sharp, rope, gin, Marlboro Lights and a big red candle and I'd call that my ideal night in, however I'm also nosy and think that we as humans should be able to be freely lustful, carnal, flirtatious, vivacious, and downright dirty on days. Or every day for my sake, but unfortunately my life is banal presently so I must be disgustingly decadent to make it bearable, if that means scratching my stomach up with something pointy or wearing ridiculously inappropriate lingerie under semi formal looking work clothes or watching hentai and getting generally flustered then so be it. Have become quite a confident little thing, procreation wise ;) I just pray no-one at work has a heart to read this. They'll probably lock me in the attic and never let me down again...but if there where chains involved... Now pull the other one. ;D Naughty little Bean. Go to bed. :) Goodnight my little devils, these times are hard for sado's? Control would understand. Irrevocably. xoxo

My work atmosphere is like a Victorian court at times.

2010-08-14T15:19:00.000-07:00

One cannot be dealing with it. I hate gossip, snippy comments and drama in my social life, why on earth would I want it at work? I'm also terrified of my favourite leaving. Despairingly so. I could barely go a week without him there, let alone pretty much forever! I hope he finds the strength to stay, I would do almost anything to make him want to stay. Why must they be so hard on him? If I'm going to splurge my utmost honesty then I believe him to be the most repressed, strangest, wonderful and kindest man I've ever met. And I've met many men, smiled at many men with my lovely grey eyes, walked with all kinds down the same lanes. And he? He is quite plain and simply a good man. A man whose cheeky repression also makes him dangerously endearing. I wonder if he will really go, if so I shall be sad for a very, very long time. I hold him very dear to my heart. Even though I am a beautifully vicious and vivacious little thing to him at all times, a cheeky wink (I hope) let's him know that I care for him deeply. Not that I would ever tell him these things of course. ;) ♥ xoxo

My legs are all scratched up.

2010-08-04T15:25:00.000-07:00

Mybad. It seems I can't deal with the intense heating circulating around my room currently. And the utter absence of anyone to release some tension I seem to be building up of late. Blah. Blah. Articulate crap blah. I'm too hot, in love, irritated, bored, skint, tired of monotony, forever on the edge of screaming...Sigh. You know Amelie is right, these times are hard for dreamers. Je suis un très petit être humain triste à ce moment. I miss him. xxxx

I promise to love you every moment...forever.

2010-07-25T16:37:00.000-07:00

Is there anything else you could want? Unrealistic and idealistic sure, I'll agree. But the very thought of one feeling this strongly about another person,in the sense as people say one's true 'soul mate' gives me more hope in the universe than any inspiration book and or documentary. Comforts me late at might when all I feel is the crippling and heart breaking ache of alone. I love something. Always. x

Carnal little thing.

2010-05-28T11:02:00.000-07:00

So they say.

I like things to rip, I like things to hurt. Force your palms around my throat and hope to God you're strong enough. Scratch as hard as you can down my thighs, then then get harder. And faster, throw me around your secluded room like a ragdoll. I'll only get up and smile. My arousal is the epitome of pain, I adore things dark. Hold me down by my wrists, tie me up, leave me, hurt me, abuse me. I would do anything to make this continue. Tell me what to do? Tell me what you need. My hands creep around you're back and dig in deeper as we come to the end. I can't breathe, I'm bruised, ravaged. hair together, deeper, softer, lighter, stop there...how beautiful.

Alas more scribes! I must muster the strength to run from him.

2010-05-26T16:26:00.000-07:00

No man can even deal with the mere notion of infidelity in its skull.

I would spin the moon down from the very stars to dance for your own amusement.

To sit in a enchanted forest is most divine
Alas though none reside at this time
So I align my place in ceramic & plastic
Moulded to cleanse man
Yet as I sit beneath it’s slippery, wet, four fractured wall; my minds sails.
For this tub that is known for rubba-dub-dub is my link to the mere magical,
As I lay underneath it’s splashed & sops
For my eyes enclosed under spy my very own hidden wooden copse.

Give me Forks. Give me piano lullabies and the feeling of despairing love. I love him more than the very stars, the very earth shifts under the weight of my devotion. The forests settled behind dank houses scream my adoration, with green moss covering the rocks I look up to the sky and think of running. With the energy of a thousand men, I look to my side and see him weaving fluidly beside me. Trees whizz past us and the sky has turned a shade darker. We then fall, or I fall. His eyes caught me off guard. I was trapped in his beatific gaze and all crumbled behind me. My breathing began with such erratic thumps that my very throat felt it would burst. He catches me softly and strokes my hair away, the lightest of all kisses placed on my face are healing my own battered wounds of years gone. And he was the weapon of those wounds, the creator. But my rue that should be vengeful and retched is ebbed away by his breath warming me in waves. I should be a ruthless monolith preying on his very weakness for leaving me cold so long ago. Alas, I sigh and remember to take my own breaths as any malicious thought towards him is beaten back. And I feel no guilt, remorse, pain, or hurt. My emotions are thoroughly balanced as I stand there in his very arms. Shrouding me from the pain of the world, yet cloaking me in the severe eventuality of scorn and hate directed at my pale face, through him. Above of all that, I float. I float with some divine intervention when he wraps his figure around mine. No one may deny how we fit. After years of pain, after any scornful word said, I feel no different to when I was young. An undeniable and irrevocable intense love & devotion to a man that clearly does not deserve it. But I would twist and turn a thousand planets just so he would glance my way.

I remember the trees. The crisp and light evening sky, the fluidity of the wind whipping around the spring leaves. A rustle of dirt as walkers trekked through the soft terrain and the laughter of children playing loudly in a play park merely metres away. I recall the thoughts in my head at the time of adolescent and everlasting love. I see now how his hair ruffled delicately in the wind, as it hung past his eyes shielding the pain of mourning he expressed to me on previous trips. The sense of my light cotton tank upon my skin seemed silly yet was soft as it dangled too long for my hips, an angst ridden message scribbled sketchily on the front and my own hair ruffling in waves at the centre of my back. His hands rested there too. Short snaps of fresh air made him pull me closer in and I forgot the dynamics & importance of oxygen consumption. His fingers evenly on my face sent my skin into screams of serenity as he brushed and smoothed the plain contours of my palette. I heard a dog bark coarsely and I, with regret and intricacy I recollect; twisted my face away from his in some futile attempt at seduction. His eyes only burned into the side of my head, with a fire so intense I was drawn in to be scalded. Whipping my head back to his own, he held me in an embrace of yearning and his lips smoothly touched mine. I smelt him first; the sweetness of his breath, the essence of a day’s endurance lingered on his shirt, his hair; a slept in & musky fragrance, coupled with some exemplary male cologne. All of that has never smelt so saccharine. Then near after, the tirade of smells from the forest surrounding us hit me. An impact of nature, the aroma of damp moss, a curving river, wild flowers forever hidden and the scent of a day coming to its end, the very tang of twilight. Did I mention I couldn't’t breathe? The natural heave of my lungs felt a challenge; the consideration of taking in breaths to even begin to neither acknowledge nor register his smell into my system was laughable. My organs lay pulsating in my throat and my shoulders heaved with such intensity I believed my spine would snap. And then he lips parted with mine and the crushing sensation of despair settled and it felt excruciating. But he smiled. And I smiled. And we walked. Holding hands, I felt the electricity surge between our fingerprints. Our bodies fitted together to walk in harmony. And again I recall the scent of the air. Dusky now, the sky tinged pink. The atmosphere warm, its aroma heavy with grass, cologne, pine & dirt. I looked down and saw soil on my tank. He pulled me closer to his waist and sighed. It had been a beatific eve. He agreed.

I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared of everything. I only accept my own violent ends through brash decisions.

Why on earth is it so difficult? Why can we not bask in love? Feel genuine adoration for one another? This night is difficult, if it were not for the sublime company my brains would be splattered against the rear wall. Heavy club beats and foamed tattered seats, my mind wanders to more profound ground.

:) I love the smell of melancholy in the morning....Enjoy beautiful monsters. I'm off to dream of a man more stunning than a Cullen. x

So the lion fell in love with the lamb.

2010-04-25T09:38:00.001-07:00

He could be Edward, if he loved me as I loved him. With intensity, a gross amount. The want I feel for him tears open that carnivorous hole in my chest once more. I feel him, Desplat rings around my skull when we are close. In a room surrounded by others, there faces blur as he stands out. I could pick his back out in a group of 5000. His scent one I wish to en-capture for eternity and the touch? His fingertips spark the breathlessness that I am accustomed to when he is near. Close as he was that eve past now, my lungs ache with the thought of holding back my baited breaths. I am a fool, with him the emotion I experience is so great my brain shall burst, the elation and happiness is grandeur, the very universe around me stops as he holds me in an embrace that no disaster could avert me from. Simple kisses slowly now, he holds my breath high and wraps his fingers around mine. Ans I smile, through complete joy and pain. I smile. Smile at the very thought he decided I was adequate enough to spend moments with. He is the only man I shall ever love, ever cherish to the point of insanity, ever love so intensely that my world is the most bleakest existence because he is not a part of it. A exquisite being. That is also the biggest C word I have ever had the pleasure of being involved with.

'I’d never seen anything more beautiful—even as I danced, singing and swaying, I could appreciate that. And the last 5 years meant nothing. And his words on the bridge meant nothing. And it did not matter if he did not want me. I would never want anything but him, no matter how long I lived.' Edited New Moon quote. Because I can't resist Desplat.

Why don't you do right?

2010-04-12T05:01:00.000-07:00

An afternoon indoors...with Mrs Billie Holiday, perfect. :)

I think I'm content, well...as content as a mad little thing can be. Things seem to be turning into something positive. My mind rests easy at night and works well in the day. It's stopped turning my brain into mush with constant worry, fear & rely. And that is just beautiful. :)

My life is working in ways I want it too, no more hate, no more being beaten black & blue in evenings because that's the only way I could feel through my abnormal monotony. Although....we won't scratch that out just yet. Pun DEFINITELY intended. ;) No more endless nights of nothing, endless days of nothing. I'm here now as I am to try my up-most to do well in life once more, be that especially with my new job. Which I adore really, it's really quite wonderful there. And in my general outlook of the universe.

Before I felt that the world had turned on it's axis away from me and I was alone lying in my own licentiousness, degradation and lust. That the only way I could wake up in the morning was to scratch my nails down my bare legs, just to make sure I was very much still alive. The same in Plymouth, the greatest and worst time of my life...a flurry of hate, sex, pain, love, anger...all those emotions swirled on a sea of cigarette smoke & cheap gin. I was happy. :) And I'm now happy once more. Not ecstatic but that's inevitable. I'm content for a while.

I like singing Do Right while painting pink nails, with my laptop on my bare legs. The sun is shining and I'm smiling. Just smiling.

"Ah essentially forgiven. One believes one to be...obsequious? To wander...again.. Oh beauty, as you soar and you fall. We measure you, mark you as something we see & feel. From the mouth of babes a child will say look at that beautiful trees. The innocence is there, the acknowledgement of a simple life the elders dream when the nights thunder by."

<3 A ramble for the lost. xoxo

Hi, hello my name is Emily.

2010-04-06T12:51:00.000-07:00

And I love loud music. Preferably while I'm semi nude. Which I am.

This music suffices when you are pretty much naked, or serves as good lurve making melodies. Or just generally naughtiness. Or it will only suffice if you're like me and a dirty prolific. :D

.Deftones, preferably Change...quiver much? Seriously Paris Hilton would only have to stick this on and I would so all over that.....sometimes it's not the person, it's the song. :)

.The End- Bullet For My Valentine. AMAZING song. Matt Tuck has vocals that make you want to jump on the next bloke with metal & leather strapped around his wrist. Sensually erotic and painfully oozing with sex, this song is guaranteed to make the most prudish girly shiver silently under her rosary beads.

.Sic Transit Gloria...Glory Fades- Brand New. Slow, pulsating, it up's the pace of your breath to some alarming rate. You breathe with Jesse's words, up & down. It's sick, beautiful and fast. My kinda love. ;)

.Bring Me Your Love- City & Colour. It's not all about the lust you know! And darling Dallas brings out the most loving side in me. This song has the ability to make Jon Cena weep. Word.

. Balcony Scene- Craig Armstrong A spectacular romantic piece, filled with so much sorrow, happiness & heart that it makes my own lungs want to burst. My emotions are not just content with hearing it, they cry out, swimming along with the strings as they rise & fall. A song for anyone who has known what it is to be adored.

.Lollipop- Framing Hanley. Very fly, very sexy & seriously smooth. The South was never so smoking. Any girl would get down to this song.

. Jeff Buckley- The whole Grace album. This album makes me blush in ways I can't really describe. Makes a singular drop of perspiration trickle down my back and my toes curl around my blankets. Jeff's voice has the ability to make women feel like goddesses and that boy's? Is the key to any lay ;) haahaaa.

.Last of all...Any song sung by Danny Stevens of The Audition. The man has charisma coming out the whazoo. He is pretty much a ice hockey loving white Barry White. In my opinion anyway. :)

There you have it, music to enjoy snuggles, sex, sin, sedation, seduction...all that jazz too. It works for me. Not that I get any action...but hey with music like this I sometimes wonder if it's worth it...;D

Goodnight beautiful's xoxo

Carnality.

2010-03-16T18:14:00.000-07:00

I will burn, roast inside my very own skin. My chest heaves up & down, up & down. My breath quickens rapidly but in small spurts. Lust clenches around my lungs, tightens it's grip, lets me go on his own accord. My thighs start to burn; so I scratch them hard. My nails dig very deep, set the skin red. Prominent against it's usual white. The feeling of excitement or 'butterfly's' erupt in the pit of my stomach causing a flush of blush across my cheeks. My neck becomes hot, my very fingertips tingle. As if my own senses are aroused. My back will arch, my toes will curl and I will bite my lips at am alarming rate. I'll close my eyes and scratch my arms and tummy. My head shall swim into a frenzy, I'll get afraid, then completely aroused, then angry. And then I remember to breathe out. And it floats away. Like a fucking shameful demon.

...Hi my names Emily and I like dissolution. And there's no shame. Ever.

Ladies and gents galore!

2010-03-15T09:27:00.000-07:00

You're little Emily is branching into the ol' world of reviewing. God forbid I have no clue what I'm getting myself into...but we shall see. I go to enough shows and love the idea of delving complete strangers into the adventure with me! I'll probably review records and music videos I adore as well. So totter on over there and give us a follow? Would be lovely. :) I only have one post thus far but I'll be coming for you other bands out there! Here's the address; http://www.singdontswing.blogspot.com/Have a goosey gander and tell us what you think!

In the mean time I'm gonna post a few silly pictures I snapped at the You Me At Six. Forever The Sickest Kids. We The Kings show in Newport on Wednesday...which I reviewed on the music blog. Unfortunately my battery went so I wasn't able to get any of the actual bands. Unfair but enjoy! They are mostly of the beautiful wife anyway...:D Lucky thing's you, I'm usually quite protective...haha!

I freak out in a very physical way.

2010-03-05T04:15:00.000-08:00

Currently kids, I can feel weight slipping off me rapidly. However, it is not to do with great healthiness. When I wake up I feel like my head is swirling, my body aches, my face thinner, tired but having slept for hours. I feel like a narcotic addict without the fun. It's horrible, I could peel my skin off. At the moment I feel so much unrest in my life, like the late great Edie, when I become depressed or uneasy I do freak out in a very physical way. I backcomb my hair until it breaks and paint my face with black makeup and sparkle, lashes of mascara and pale lips. I wear leotards and tiny skirts in the cold, I hang Twilight jewelery around my body and douse myself in mango scents. People see it as some kinda attention seeking thing but it really is just a mask. When I'm hurting inside, my physical appearance is at this climax of the grandeur. I don't like anything about my face, or my hands, my eye colour is boring, my face shape is disgusting, I have pale skin, my skin is horrific & my body shape is a fucked up upside down triangle. But I do like my legs and my smile. Sometimes. All this ramble is, is a expression of my current feeling. I feel like nothing makes sense, my head spins, my nails are short, there are NEVER enough cigarettes, everyone's sad but I wouldn't go as far to say I am. I have friends, why would I be sad? No I think my dear ones, it's mostly boredom and lack of activity in my life currently that explains my rely. I want something to happen soon, or I fear I'm going to run away to the other side of the pond to try & hang out with Mitchell & Kyle. That would be nice. :) ♥

The Quay part deux.

2010-03-01T13:15:00.000-08:00

These are some edits I did after I took some photo's, just a play around with a couple things. :) Do not fret darling's I will forever have a pen in my hand. It shall never be replaced for a keyboard or software. I am in no way a photographer, I leave that to the greats of the world and Flickr. :) I just like taking pretty pictures. ♥

Welcome to The Quay

2010-03-01T08:53:00.000-08:00

I took some pictures of my seaside town today. It's touristy, tacky, awful & desolate but I don't mind it. It can just get dire after you've been here for 20 years :) So for you anywhere that has never been to a place like Torquay then here you go, welcome to my crumbling hometown. ♥

These things make me smile when the outside is grey.

2010-02-24T13:57:00.000-08:00

:D Mitchell & Kyle will never cease to make me giggle, smile...even get a bit teary! I get down to LiveLavaLive. Certified Lavahead. :)

.My Bilo ♥ She is the most greatest, most beautiful, funny, cute, smart, wonderful person I have ever had the pleasure of not scaring away :) She makes me feel safe, happy, loved, whole, light and a good person. But being near her makes me a better person, that's how much of a star she really is. If we where Orion's belt, I would kick the third nooby star off the sky so it could just be the both of us. And she would forever be the brightest. She is my universe. My moon. My honest to Jesus everything. Forever & always. :) I love you baby, just remember 'it can't rain all the time.'

Peanut butter, the texture on your tongue is pretty much orgasmic. The taste? Dear god. I love it more than peach. And I really like peach....not that Mario whore. The actually metaphysical fruit you eat with your teeth. :)

Craig Armstrong. If you don't know who this is, I feel sorry for you. He is a composer who composed many, many brill films; a few being, Romeo & Juliet, Plunkett & Macleane, Moulin Rouge, Love Actually....etc! He's gifted in so many ways, his music elevates beyond mere melody to reduce the listener to fits of laughter, tears, bouts of sorrow & compassion. He transcends a composer in my opinion, he creates a universe with his music and transports you, you're there at Romeo's side the first second he see's Juliet. A very brilliant man, he is one of my favourites. :)

Coffee! Any coffee imaginable, seriously just pour it down my throat. :) It's awful & unhealthy I am aware. But to coin Gerard's phrase...'It's just so damn good.' I like the feeling of my first morning coffee, it's an addiction I know. But guys come on...it's a delicious one! :D

My nephew :) He is an angel and tells me about Lazytown, school & Fireman Sam and I'll gladly sit and listen to his gorgeous little voice. I love this boy, he's 2 with phenomenal social skills. Definitely a heart-breaker ;D Brody Alfred Jane FTW.

Ermmmmmm....boat shoes, The Libertines, rain, Alice & Jasper, Owl City, sweets (especially the gummy kind), 99p books in charity shops, actually anything brilliant for 99p in a charity shop, my shit-zu's LuLu & Sasha, ESOTSM, James Franco, Jack Barakat, walks, sunglasses of the Wayfarer variety, poetry, leaving MY poetry on the bus to make commuters blush, any man brave enough to like something uncool & admit it, peach flavored ANYTHING, red nail varnish, rainbows, owls, girls who smell of white musk, Edward & Bella, Harry Potter, The Sims 1,2,3, Xbox, Youtube, fashion Bloggers, Belle De Jour, MCR, Old Aiden videos, me & my brother's 'Quote off's', her smile, his smile, American Dad, City & Colour, Straylight Run videos, crying when you're generally upset & the feeling after of being a bit sleepy, naps, tea, crisps!....I think those are some of the things that make me happy. :D

Enjoy, you guy's should do one too. :) Goodnight love's, songs on repeat tonight? Telephone- Lady Gaga & Designer Skyline- Owl City. ♥ xxxx

Je suis seul.

2010-02-22T10:52:00.000-08:00

'Lift your head. Become in sync with your chakra.
Stop your lungs. Slowly, now.
Feel your skin drift off. Energies tingle.
They dance inside your fingertips.
You feel high. Think of his face. Careful now.
Consider absolute nirvana. And now breathe.
With the violin.
As it echo's.
Your sorrow.
Again.'

Adagio for Strings makes me write things like this. Hi, Hello my name is...sad lady. I have cried all day, laughed at the wall & listened to Craig Armstrong so the dull ache in my soul won't leave me. Because I'm aware that when it does, I'll just go back to black to coin the phrase of that big haired girl. Things aren't getting much better are they Peter? Not like you said they would. Last night was beautifully fun, and yet my weekend has been far from perfect as you can see. I'm secure in a hole, and I hope darkly that a van hits me clean off this earth on that 'star-crossed' dank back-road so I can say I told you so.

I don't think I'm really all that sad now, I'm sleepy from the tears I suppose. I'm Googling Monmartre to remember why I do what I do everyday. As my king once scribed behind bars; 'Nearly home now love. Nearly at them gates.'

I have officially given up on these two things.

.Boys, men, lads, rudeboys...you get the picture. You don't possess my attention any longer Mr L.

.Trying to please my one parent. It's a mission my brain is tired of tackling. So I'm done. No longer will I have any need for her.

Emo kid alert right? I suppose so, go blame Craig Armstrong not I. Leave me to dream of France please. x

I've been doing....

2010-02-16T11:40:00.001-08:00

really sad post's lately, for that I'm sorry. :) I miss doing list's, I'm this bored....I'm listing. And listening to Paul Cantelon. If you appreciate BEAUTIFUL music scores you should check him out. He is outstanding.

These things I like this month.
. JAGK! My best friend Bilo has started a bit of a Jack Barakat obsession inside me...as you can see. Reason's, he's tall, nom, and look's like my year 9 lover.

. Healthy eating & sticking too it. Basically I can't stand scales however I felt it necessary to weigh myself after Xmas and....EW. So I now live on black tea & fish, rice, all that jazz. Surprisingly I like it! I feel all very Cherry Darling. ;)

. Writing on my fingertips. Shouldn't do it but have done consecutively for the past week. Have a job interview tomorrow. Must find nail polish remover. I don't think he'll appreciate 'Livelavalive' on the hand of a future employee ;)

. Aveyond! Basically Aveyond is a RPG game series designed by the good people of Amaranth games. http://www.amaranthia.com/ There's a few in the series, picked up the newest, it's awesome! Being a RPG nerd I love it, it's fun, challenging, art work is beautiful and for a 2D graphic scale it kicks bum. :) Wicked cool, go, go, go.

. Jedi esque ponytails on girls. JUST PLAIN SEXY.

. All Time Low, again the wife's doing but I love them lot's. These beautiful boy's make me very happy when I shower and sing along to Six Feet Under the Stars. :)

. And last but not least, Livelavalive. Plugged this a few times on FB & Twitter but seriously, Mitchell Davis is a phenomenal guy, a wonderful artist and down right do-gooder, and he'll make you chuckle into your cuppa. http://www.youtube.com/user/livelavalive#

What I want to accomplish?
. FULL TIME WORK. please & thank you. :)

. Making the stand to get my nose pierced...not in a Ke$ha way to look cool though.

. Getting my hair did. Seriously everyone, I look like Bella went and smoked some serious shit and then got attacked by the Crow. =/

. New wardrobe. Not a actual physical wardrobe, by wardrobe I mean clothes. :) My style is sooooo wannabee Horror meets drug addled and lazy.

.Complete and utter happiness when I wake up. Please see my obsession with Mr Barakat to help me complete this. ;D aha.

I'm pretty sure I'm going slowly mad...brilliant. :) More rambles soon. Love and all that xxxxxxxxx

Touch me. I'm going to scream.

2010-02-15T07:29:00.000-08:00

'Linked sky, twinged with blackened ink. Swirling above a salted sea.' ...I don't know what this means, but it was in my book so I obviously was feeling something close to emotion when I jotted it down. I'm unhappy and I don't know why, this cordial staining my lips blood red with berries & Sonny on the stereo is not even enough to lift me from this moody stupor. Hm-mm, odd. I feel a shadow of whom I once was, prolific, interesting, decadent & beautiful. And now? I feel like a speck of dirt on some indie cum-model-esque beautiful human's Dior cardigan. Boring, & dull, I've fallen out of love with the world. My world, my Arcady. I miss you, I needed it. Is it only when my mood hit's rock bottom that a waterfall of words come cascading from my brain? Obviously yes. Take me away head, take me to France, take me to those dreamy situations you place yourself in at 3 in the morning. I miss being touched but not sex. I miss Plymouth but not having money. I miss my thin hips but not the nightmares. I miss a man's smile but not his anger. I miss her. And everything about her. I miss the intelligence we shared, the fear's, the low's, the high's, the giggles and sighs. So here I am now, mistaking lust for hate and vice versa, understanding my role in life and trying hard not to be fodder. It was my father's birthday yesterday, I'm unsure how old he is now. Or where he is or how he's doing. I just wish sometimes that the view counts on my social sites where him. I love you Papa, I forgive you. Forever & always. In the words of Sonny Moore. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. He also sings a song about Emily. But that's another mood & story. I'm sorry I'm grumbling. The sky is grey and so is the tea. Life ain't supposed to be like this. :) Chin up darling, it might not happen. Or has it already? Sigh....xxx

I can feel my mind wandering again.

2010-02-12T15:22:00.000-08:00

Note to self:
I miss you terribly.
This is what
we call a tragedy.
Come back to me,
Come back to me,
To me.

I hate to cover up darling Jack, but I'm being 'emo'. As he always proclaimed. Le sigh. x

I would die for what I can do. I would die for what you can't.

2010-02-11T12:49:00.000-08:00

To start off, new crush to add to copious list. :)

"She’s too old to celebrate birth, especially yours in particular. No sweet for you, not until your own daughter turns 22. Buck up, don’t moan. I’m going to chat all illicit on the phone. Look after the kids won’t you? I’m the parent, you’ll understand soon too. When you grow, that all my abuse, cruelty and wrath; was the product of a self obsessed, deranged, disgusting sociopath."

Newest. Short, kinda messed up. Love it :) What do we think ladies & gents? I want a job badly, there's only so many times 40 yr old's can snatch a job away from you in a care home. Sigh. But we carry on, said a great man. Late night rambles and tea can not be healthy. ;D G'night lovely's. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I exclaim....

2010-02-09T15:25:00.000-08:00

Every time I scratch my nails down someone elses back I hope you feel it.

Regal rights under Torquay lights.

2010-02-03T13:03:00.000-08:00

Darlings, as I sit here in a silken night dress, caressing my left hand softly with a stupid grin attached to my face; I do so wonder. Am I correct in thinking that is considering sexy to be a British lady? As I turn my head to face my window, Paul Cantelon swimming around my brain, it strikes me so...what makes a truly beautiful British woman? Of course women are stunning all over this earth, from the tiny features of short pixie like beauty's in Japan to the statuesque dominant stunners with cheeks to match in Europe. Here is what I adore about a British woman and what I aspire to be for my life partner/husband/lover. When I was young I always thought that milk white skin was the very essence of beauty, the translucent shine of a woman void of fake tan was an alluring thing indeed. A soft figure my Nana used to say was one males wept on there knees for. A woman able to bear children, a woman with hips, chest and a soft stomach. A slight curled nature of a woman's hair, long enough perhaps reaching past her shoulders, usually honey blonde or dark mahogany. Eyes, bright and alert. But youthful and full of wonder, and pink lips; unusual in shape & size. Not too tall, not too petite, with slender fingers and even slender noses. All this coupled with a detailed knowledge of food, literature, wine, movies, music, current affairs, history and a basic knowledge of football & politics. And of course the ability to beat a man at Call of Duty once. :) Having written this I have come to realise that all of these things are not predominately British qualities in the slightest. I think more of it is seeing my Nana and her family, these beautiful, classy & intellectual British born and bred women exhaling through the misconception of the females of darling Albion. And I hope that I and my children shall change the future's tainted look of the beauty's of Britain when I decided my figure has got imperfect enough. :) I think in every way we see women differently, but me? I like the classic regal look. Let's just hope my love for cheese and beer don't ruin my chances. :)I leave you with Mrs Johansson to drool over. xxxxx

I am Jack's Broken Heart.

2010-01-31T12:08:00.000-08:00

I guess I'll go home now.

And there it is, nothing short of pain. Such pain. Sometimes I think it will kill me. That single catch of breath as he walks away is the one that saves this lady, that I'm sure. And the other? No answer, who knows. Not I. I hope his life is filled with love and happiness, because when I see him, he will know what Hell is like. It get's to the point where my love is so great for the first and only, that I like a man who looks a considerable amount like him. A famous one at that. Where's the justice in love. It's so brash, sudden and hurtful. I hate it, more everyday. One day I hope I'll be a better person for straying away from the path of L'Amour. Or not, we shall see. Just so you know; I love you. But I hate you more than I hate myself. This writing is disgusting and dripping with teen angst but I just can't help at the moment. Goodnight lover's.

Just Cherry? Yes please. :)

2010-01-22T15:02:00.000-08:00

Saucy blog?

I have a fantasy. Of him, them, all my men. The following make me quiver with smiles & heat.

. A teacher, dark in nature but charming. To take me amongst the lecture rows. In a murky light, a small skirt smooths over my legs. White; as he wrenches them open and pulls me closer to earn my A. His piercing eyes make my breath accelerates as we hear footsteps coming closer. So we both come closer. And closer. Until. Class is over.

.Another strong handsome cum army man. Who I’ve been so afraid of not satisfying. Who I crave when the lights go down. His arms wrapped around my throat. Sneering. Grinning. He knocks me out cold. And as crimson trickles down my cheek, I smile too.

.A dandy man. His striking face, cherub like in its delight. Smiles behind a William Blake book, a cocky sneer of literary intelligence. I breathe heavy as we listen to Desplat, soaring, dying to soak each other up like a book. Our fingers fondle near frozen hands and the wine flows as I sink and settle softly into the deepest sector’ of his soul. Fully clothed, I’ve never felt more beautiful.

Sexy love & dances of death for you pretty ones. x

So many pink books.

2010-01-18T05:33:00.000-08:00

Currently listening to Michael Nyman, flicking through my old poetry notebooks from last year. Some are adequate, very so, but some are just oozing with self doubt, hate, terror and lust. I love it! And I had forgotten! I have a new love for unique stones in jewelery; topaz, moonstone, quartz, & amber. It's my birthday next week; hitting the big 20. Scary times, eeek! So here darlings are some rambles from last year and a recommendation; firstly the recommendation; EVERYONE should follow Belle De Jour, for us Brit's you will know her as Dr Brooke Magnanti, a scientist whom wrote a blog and then books on her time as a call girl, until speculation that her blog and books where fictitious & other things, she revealed her identity in November. She truly is one of the most fantastic writers I have every had the pleasure of taking into the ol noggin. Dirty, true and brilliantly witty, she has a warmth to her writing that makes you feel as if your there, a friend in her world. Her blog still inspires me even after her unveiling as it where. She makes me very proud to be a woman, for that you should pick up her books. You can find them on Amazon; http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/search/ref=a9_sc_1?rh=i%3Astripbooks%2Ck%3Abelle+de+jour&keywords=belle+de+jour&ie=UTF8&qid=1263822217 and follow her blog; http://belledejour-uk.blogspot.com

Now the rambles;
""Your a disgrace. To the literate race. Run fast at an atheist's pace. The girls turn from your dandy face. Wink softly with that vintage briefcase. Fingering slowly my antique lace. With beauty, I sigh and whisper "what a waste." Because I would scribe the devil's stanza for one simple taste. And what soft light ends the night? I truly cannot lift this pen. To write of Arcady again. I fall down at dawn. With my heart, withered and torn."

"I once asked a man where his umbrella was; on some rainy eve. He was soaked through it wasn't difficult to believe; that he pronounced so softly. That he hadn't one. When asking why and what was to be done. He smile to me and said; "Why little one because I have nothing to hide."

"Dazed I ponder of kings, boats, and statement clothes. Slumped in a lecture chair; loving being loathed. By & by my languid body does arise. Weaving a web of grammatical contradictions & lies. Spending days trying to understand the human race. Analysis of love, art and a single pretty girl's face. Nothing inside, nothing behind. Small beauties pretending to be kind. And as I gaze, the voyeur into the darkened sun. I make myself remember, suicide is not fashion's number one."

Subtle, limber, dry. A thousand times, my heavy head has lied. Softly gentle, some evil & rough discourse. I have little mercy, and seen even less remorse."

There we are :) Hope you lurrrrrrve them, I'm trying to write more & more everyday. The qualms of my home life and family get in the way however. But cest la vie, oui? :) <3 x

No interaction and no beautiful people make Emily extremley tardy.

2010-01-11T07:40:00.001-08:00

"These violent delights have violent ends." Very quite on the Western front these days darling's, appy polly loggies. :) I'm surpassing Christmas & News Years tales due to my hermit like dullness. Instead I've been writing many thing's, more than any time of my life. Small things of course, mostly on buses. I really don't like the general public of Devon so I write saucy Neruda things on Post It's & leave them on the seats. Mwahaha. Evil scribing superhero Emily. :) So here are my little rambles for this week, hopefully I'll treat the world to some more very soon.

." I'm idle and bloated. Destitute and alone. Teetering yet aware. Religious dreams in an English home, screaming silently within a fever's scare."

."The forest rings softly under this most tragic family. A copse tucked away from the world, I've never felt so alone. Love, we could lay here all day, just hiding away from everything. Roll in a tightly bound embrace for hours, just running away from living. Our long hair hair entwined over the soft green leaves, and life in it's innate nature will stand at our command."

."Me & De Sade have a arduous affiliation. A nefarious, hilarious understanding of decadence, death and degradation".

."And yet I was such a soft little thing before my innocence did disband. She thought as a man holds his weight down on her hands."

."It seems I can always find him, in even a Christmas crowd. His perfect silhouette, slender & sleek seems to illuminate against the rest. My eyes meet his figure and the breath in my body quickens to some alarming rate. His very essence drives me to smile on the bus ride home. As a plain Canadian girl twiddles her hair through chipped purple polished nails."

"Poetry has never been a beautiful sequence of 'we' and 'they's, it only has room for the I's & 'why's'."

"All my wishes are is too live under the stars in Montmartre, next to a love so powerful; I forget to breathe. And a career in which my pen is the only tool I need."

"I wait silently for your shadow to wrap it's arms around me. Ghostly, as we lay, watching the world tumble around us. The apocalypse. But then I realize I'm alone and my heart, it shatters into a glass so fine. You scatter the dust into the wind with the breath of your last goodbye."

Nothing special but do enjoy. I smell yummy at the moment, body butter rules. So does Alexandre Desplat. New obsession's; black tea, Twilight inspired jewelery, fruit body butter, Alice's eyes, Tim Minchin, boys who have chest pieces and wear denim, smudgy eye make up for sexy come to bed look & Sims 2. Goodnight beautiful's x :)

Bob Dylan can go suck a railroad spike

2009-12-01T08:28:00.000-08:00

Don't get me wrong I love the man, but he sang of travels. Yet I am the one who honestly lives out of a bag. Every other day, I pound the pavement and shift the heavy bag's weight permanently indenting my shoulder blade. All the while my earphones are screaming Desplat. And I'm screaming inside, an unhappy person with little stability. All the while I want to run away, somewhere not gray. I can't even cry more than one spurt as I walk past a dilapidated street lamp and oh it flickers. Illuminating slightly the darkness of my life and this street. Oh woe is me, blah blah blah. My fingers are frozen as I upload new scores to make me think I'm somewhere else. I'm the real traveler here, building up mile upon mile just to be closer to my destination I know shall never come. x

My future sprogs.

2009-11-23T08:46:00.000-08:00

I love baby names, I love the meaning behind them. Imagine my children's faces when I caring for my brother is something I enjoy doing. I know there actual names but these are for any to be mother's who happen to come across my lovely little blog.

Boys;
. Elladan
. Albion
. Berlioz
. Rylan
. Aiken
. Aelfric
. Eldon
. Harlow
. Josiah
. Lane
. Nash
. Bryce
. Oscar
. Isaiah
. Archer
. Xavier
. Asher
. Emery
. Eden
. Takoda
. Stark
. Anoki
. Ashkii
. Nuka
. Finn
. Kalen
. Rory
. Blaine
. Quinn
. Luken

Girls
. Ophelia
. Beau
. Harley
. Selina
. Tatiana
. Alazne
. Osane
. Istimiel
. Skylar
. Arwen
. Raine
. Abella
. Avery
. Esti
. Catori
. Nuna
. Octavia
. Amelie
. Arrosa
. Hunter (Unisex)
. Adi
. Emily :)
. Rose
. Seraphine
. Olympia

Enjoy darlings :)

My children shall be named; Albion Archer Arkham, Berlioz Xavier, Abella Quinn or Harley Beau Quinn, and Elladan Nash. Hence I used them as single names :) It's why I shall never be married aha. Much baby love beautifuls. xxx

I forgot how much his words made me speechless.

2009-11-16T12:29:00.000-08:00

And slightly envious, my heart shall always race when I see his name flash upon the screen, and I will forever have a small compartment in said heart reserved only for his smile and laugh. His writing is outstanding and I feel ridiculous whenever I type a reply back. :) I'm in such a gorgeous and numb mood, everything's going wrong but I'm smiling away. I love you kind of. I love you kind of. I love you kind of. In a way I suppose, but not love love, just a twinge of a part of him that is lyrical. But then a wonderful man did ask once as a joke..."What is love?" Personally I think it to be created by Stephanie Meyer. But that's just this little lady's opinion. Wheres my wolf or lion? :)

Regrettably I seem to have a cavernous hole in the center of my chest. It’s something that doesn’t seem to want to shift. There are no words to clarify this constricted ache, a tautness of some mourning that may not be allowed to flourish. I’m dancing now, alongside this melody, just typing and dancing; floating. But who here could ever understand something so invisibly unsure, again it stabs at the trumpet sound. It pounds empty when I see your name. Oh the shame she is afraid. Such reverence for his flair, but again stab, stab, stab my heart’s hole a ‘beats. To be entwined would be divine but you are so attached to the scent of Dill, your blind. x

The following make me believe in magic.

2009-11-11T15:45:00.000-08:00

. The World of Peter Rabbit and Friends
.The Twilight Saga
.Amber jewelery
.Any score by; John Williams, Hans Zimmer, Alexandre Desplat and Danny Elfman.
.Every image and movement, word and note directed by Tim Burton.
.The Harry Potter collection. In fact anything Harry Potter related. Even notepads. Actually especially notepads. :)
.Beatrix Potter
.Just the word La Push or Forks
.When the full moon picks me to bathe it's light in at night.
.The Christmas Coca Cola advert.

I think that's it, there's nothing wrong with wanting a bit of magic and fantasy in your life. It takes the edge off and I will never feel ashamed of bathing in the gorgeous world of vampires; sparkling or not, wizards, witches, castle, werewolves, melting eyes, legends and myths. If you think me childish, then I feel awfully sorry that your imagination can't stretch longer than your next dole check and fuck. :) Excuse me, I must go dance with Edward and Harry in the Room of Requirement. :D

I've had a really terrible day.

2009-10-26T12:08:00.000-07:00

I apologize before hand, this is long but I had to keep writing to push back waves of tears. I want my Arcady now please.

I long for a moon, I yearn for that kindred soul. In the wake of night, whistling toward the twilight, does my lover forget my small plain face. And I, the poet will cry. Tears may fall under a dank and desolate sky. Oh woe and woe again it seems, a pit of nothing so she screams! Heave me from this hole, leave me all alone and I’ll wander the land and roam. So many won’t be burdened then. No, no I shall travel living out Dylan lies and indulging in desolate Southern dives, with the faces of men I longed to kiss forever etched into my skull. And then? You’ll find me on top of some ramshackle Moulin sipping away my fears covered in a green haze. Lazy wanderings day’s waiting for the day where he remembers my name. As time stands still, my mind becomes ill. Grazing on Marlboro and Tanqueray, as the wallpaper peels like the curved edge of ancient books by writers so beloved, I will say. Darlings I’m not okay.

It’s really as if the temperature in this house has nothing to do with the heating being off. An arctic chill omits and circles around the place where harmony is suppose to reside. A spiteful feeling of being unwelcome in your own alleged home is something no therapist can help. No amount of non verbal communication, good behavior, respect and ration resources can help me. So I walk on mere eggshells disappearing into my Arcadia/Albion/Forks/ etc, so that the days don’t seem so wounding, so that this world, this reality cannot hurt me as much as it does. It softens the crippling blow and recognition that I shall never have a parents love and that I shall have to create my own love and my own family to truly be happy. She tells me to stop using a sob story but life is just a pitiless place, one doesn’t expect there only parent to deride them so, it makes it worse. My only sob story is that I am obviously a rather large inconvenience to her. Makes you wonder what the point in living really but I just remember the words of strong people in my life, a Dylan man telling me to ‘keep on’, Gerard standing as my dark Knight on a mountain etched with hurt, a General of his own army screaming at me to carry on and stand up tall. A soldier is a metaphor but here I find it apt, keep on, stand up tall and take his hand and never be afraid again. I am no longer fearful of this world and it endless system, because nothing can come close to the emotional dissatisfaction I have to wade through every single second I live with her. But hey look on the bright side right? I suppose I have all my limbs.

Ah here they come, the family. As it where. One can’t imagine what odium and pain lives underneath this all. A pleasant car is merely a façade for that around us that isn’t actually accurate. This loving home is what the outside see and it is all fucking lies. Every single thing about it, it disgusts me to even be a part of it. I am alone, a wolf blah, blah, blah. I hate it. Every solitary noise and utter brings me quicker too insanity and it’s getting worse. So little lullabies may soothe for moments, and the drink and dance makes me forget for evenings. And a few beautiful Lotharios smile at me to help remember that there is conviction in the human race after all. The fact that it’s stifling and I’ve reverted to using a monotonous tone whenever I am sharply addressed has a very odd way of opening a hole in my chest that relentlessly feels like it’s being burned, and continues to cut off my breathing with no difficulty. So then there he lied at the last, the one that used to make me forget everything, and there’s the ones that made me remember vividly and tried in his higher class, cushy way to help me see the bigger picture and told me to stop living in my past. When he has his heart broken by both his parents then he can come and tell me to stop living in the past. Although I know he was only trying to help. Ah and so it erupts into an icy world where all of her anger is directed to me. Not the fact that she will now continue to tell the house husband that I am in fact as ineffective as he probably thought beforehand. And spin some noxious web of lies that I am an atrocious little vindictive person whose only goal is to be idle and bleak for the rest of my life. Which one supposes is true, I do feel that way now.

So I shall try my best to heave myself from the ashes and be reborn with some sort of smile etched on my face. I fucking hate the word sob story, the more she tells me I’m using one which evidently in my eyes I have never moaned to her about a thing; I more I come closer to believing her and then am warped into a candid state of strong feelings of desertion and neglect. Which I suppose is ludicrous really isn’t it? I’m nineteen years old, but sadly they are there. Those malevolent little evil feelings that yank your usually Elated Emily into Dark, Depressed and Down little Decadent me, one wonders how we humans live such long lives. Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. He sings. I can smell her abhorrence from here, disgusting little witch. The gall she has to call me a ghastly person! I’m not the Joker but I smile enough, I’m never outwardly malicious, unless I’ve had a slug of gin. I always pretend to be nothing but a stable, blissful, witty and delightful young adult with likeable social skills and fluffy hair. The only time my little dark one inside (to coin the language of Mr. Lindsey) stirs and roars are when she is there and is staring at my dark wanderer with her own. However I like to think my own is merely some figment of an obsession with Delarge and Dexter, I would never really kill someone however I do have an over whelming antipathy for people. Especially she, she fills something inside me is so black and wicked I am scared of it poisoning my blood. It rages like the sea when she feels the need to assert herself and remind her dear darling little daughter that she is the boss and how much of an awful inconvenience she is to have around. I find it all rather uncouth actually; there are people out there who are dying for my company. Problem is I’m forever low on funds. My fault really, a lack of job, and I don’t care what she says it’s not from bloody lack of trying thank you very much. I’d like to see her waiting a few hours trying to ask Sainsbury’s workers if they will take me back. No, no, I foolishly when we where having our odious little argument, in relation to her rant about me being out of work said “well we can all work.” Bad move but I felt fucking brilliant for uttering it, about time I did. I’m not trying to be a martyr; I just can’t seem to get an interview at this present time and her? I’ve worked more days and hours in 2 years than she has in her entire life. No that that is not an excuse for me not getting a job, I honestly would very much like a job, to be able to shower my Bilo with everything she deserves, to take my younger ones on day trips away from the uncertainty and pain that lies at home and to be able to do something with my life finally. But the day I can’t get a bloody job in Sainsbury’s is the day when you know it’s a bit bad.

But that’s just my rant, to be fair I’m pretty sure I’ve gone all irrational but then again maybe not, I can still hear Gerard in my ears, whispering sweet dripping words of lethal revenge. And so my Dark one smiles inside, he satisfied with such evil thoughts, shall be my most wicked advocate, alongside me, jovial when life is retched and my mood is low. Or though, that’s what I feel he’s like, after reading Dexter, I felt a twinge of empathy and likeness to this ‘Dark Passenger’ I mean of course Darling Dexter is a serial killer, a man without emotions, without compassion but I understood. Like when I was so young, I remember watching Clockwork Orange (who’s the irresponsible one now Mother?) and as everyone in the room recoiled and gasped and wept in horror at the dealings of the most beautiful Alex, my eyes lit up and remember being so blissfully happy, looking at his face, watching him move all graceful through each punch, such grandeur finesse, such elegant beauty as his eyes would lock with the camera. I knew his behavior where bad but I fell irretrievably in love and there it started my adoration of the melancholic, the debauched, and the downright dirty. You know I feel as if I’m writing my memoir, that is, if I had anything attractive to say. You know some people talk just to hear themselves talk? Well I think I write and scribe to merely write and scribe, like a walk that hasn’t been planned with any particular route, I just follow the words being absently typed onto the screen and trail them down, down and down. Like some forlorn traveler with no compass, the words jut out from the sides and don’t keep in time, the verbs are erroneous and synonyms don’t make any sense and neither does the grammar. But people seem to read it, like people stray off the footpath. I haven’t the Internet consistently presently which is worrying, I’m rather used to making myself feel better with a Twilight picture or comment from a beautiful friend. I am Internet dependent, this I know but who isn’t in this generation? Forget Twitter, MySpace, Facebook or any of that, I miss putting words into the world. I feel after that is done, I can relax, I can feel at peace slightly. Which in my changing world is something of a relief, I now realize how much I’ve wrote and it’s a fair lot. I think of When Doves Cry and in all my sincerity for once I have a singular tear down my face as I type, ‘How could you leave me standing alone in a world that is so cold. Maybe I’m just like my father, maybe I’m just like my mother. She’s never satisfied. Why do we scream at each other?’ C’est la vie. Knowing is the most awful part, being ignorant is one of life’s virtues. Whatever weather beaten women will tell you, sometimes being blissfully unaware of anything around you is the best thing to be. I know that from experience. But that’s just life, I do not greet pity well and I will not have people feeling bad for me. Although it’s quite a rarity when people do so in fact I’m just wasting words, which when I think is much unlike me, I do not waste words. It just keeps my mind from everything. Don’t pay too much close attention to it darlings.

Pray not as I see you, yes there among the ranks of angels you used to speak of. Ouch says my heart as the cellos rise. Try my fucking problems on for size. x

Will I wait for you?

2009-10-20T13:26:00.000-07:00

Short answer is no. No sir I shall not.

You know Connie Francis really does not help when your a tad emotional. But that woman has a pair of pipes on her and we all really love to bask in our mopey little emotions don't we? I actually do not wish too, so as my family are watching football I'm here hashing out my pain in the form of working really rather hard. What I adore about this stupid situation is that I was fine on my own! I don't care what some lovely intelligent but all rather wrong boys I know say. I DO NOT WANT LOVE. Not now or ever, of course as woman we all dream of an Edward Cullen or a Romeo to come take us away but that simply does not happen. But don't tell that to 14 year old's. Or be prepared to be beaten with a New Moon book. He made this what it is and now as a result I can't stop thinking the dreadful 'what if' and thinking 'is he thinking of me?' WHO CARES? I have a slight complex in never wanting to be dependent of a man and will not have one hurt my feelings or make me feel stupid. I hate that feeling more than anything and if being lonely and miserable may prevent it then so be it. He said those dreaded things and now I can't help but let him walk all over my brain. Grr. As if I'm not bloody insane enough. Not anymore though, I refuse to be his little toy. Until I find a bloke that can make me genuinely smile and giggle, I'm being a little prude. Maybe. :)

I am fortunes fool.

2009-10-05T15:53:00.000-07:00

Train rambles darling darkling's. Enjoy :)

Barely here, terrified of what lurks outside her bedroom door
Does thou live in this world, he asked?
White sheets, in the warm morning light she basks
So she walks, nay shambles through the ancient land
A collection of rosary beads abound around her hand
And thus to the disgust of preachers and nuns
A cross tied loosely at her shoe, clanging on the floor

.

Just as the sun shines, the beautiful Beethoven rises and lifts. How glorious. It's pure ecstasy made flesh, or rather made melodic. Such greatness, my heart will burst! It swells and lowers at a singular swift motion of the conductor's stick. Truly music for the heavens of my Albion. Or Hell. As Blake would proclaim. Oh and then there's my little scores. I cry out at the very flutter of Desplat. It's flowing melancholy albeit spliced with some romanticism., it reminds me of fields and tree's as green as the watercolor allows them to be. A love lie's there, made not of treasure gold but of despair!

Shakespeare said once, I am fortunes fool, yet sadly I am love's. Oh harsh day. My love of many universes, take me away. To the hidden most deepest copse that be your heart.

Always without and never about. Lazy but passes it off as a libertine life. But then won't touch drugs again. Isn't it a funny world we live in? People and there biased looks and then there's the metro crowd whom are never without there books. Sprawling buildings that illuminate the possibility's of factory workers. There's a little pretty blond girl with light up trainers, talking like little Alice as she is silenced by a haggard looking mother whom has given up on the universe. The child at 4 recites the train stops in perfect linear, and hugs her mother's back only to be pushed away. I can't help but feel her pain.

10 annoyed Brit's on a train. Does make on question the tolerance of a human today. I know I've been close to blowing my brains across the wall.

I tell my mother; there's no shame in wanting to bathe in cigarette smoke, wine and literature.

Some people just want to hear themselves scribe.

Steal and I'll go Picard on you guys, as the scene kids say; I'm copyrighted BITCH. Or something like that...=/ G'night my beautifuls, let us hope tomorrow is a brighter one.

I ran away from your love now I run towards it. Test me in anyway you see fit! Test me!

2009-09-07T16:43:00.000-07:00

...Alexandre Desplat and Yiruma are not helping these feelings of want you know.

Sonnet XVII; Pablo Neruda I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

My dream is to conduct aloft an Albion stream....these morose feelings shall pass when they leave I hope. I have figured out I have my own little Jacob and Edward. How exciting children. ;) Anyone willing to stop by with cupcakes this week by the way are more than welcome. Goodnight lover's. x

Snippets from train rides home.

2009-09-04T13:12:00.002-07:00

Little train rambles from my notebook. (Copyrighted of course. ;D)

"To win my fair one's heart I must be brash. But to be too brash is brazen. So, instead I'll weep in a spinster's haven."

"Deep I sink and forever on the fun. As I sprint to the brink of the dusk approaching sun. This emerald desert is evaporating, evolving with my every breath. Sweat droplet's fall into the deepening depth. And my hands shake as I spread them wide. So then I fall, with one last goodbye."

"Wait here Mother, may I not be melancholy for a moment? You raised me metaphorically. Again I whisper to my malicious Mother of my miserable, morose melancholy."

"A woman's curves create nothing but a satirical silhouette. Which such men whom bridle at them may fall to there knees. That being the case, we as powerful females may not starve and smoke ourselves to the extreme slender of that of waif like, clothes hanger beauties on the catwalk. A it is told by wise and brash mother's before us; whom shall forever always say. 'Tit's and arse!!!' all the way."

(In relation to a pretentious type business man tutting at my New Moon book on the train. I scribbled this furiously as it rolled around the dark hills.)

"They say the lion fell in love with the lamb. So far we are merely presented with a cute turn of phrase of a classic fable fitted here to suit the stomach churning delights of silly and twitter-pated young teens. I digress, I am talking of the gargantuan saga that is Twilight. I must admit, I am a fan, it's hopeless romanticism and dripping, no, pulsating sexual innocence that courses through the paragraphs had me hook, line and sinker for a few evenings, gasping at every breath Bella forgot to take and crying out loud of the Skin's generation's; Romeo and Juliet. I must warn all women however, you will fall in love with Edward Cullen. Without realizing it also. Your love for this character shall last even when the book is down and the lights are off. Day after day, you'll find yourself comparing your loud, silly, less graceful male acquaintances with Edward. Yearning them to be more like an 108 year old, fictitious virgin vampire. Silly really. No actually it's not silly, it's downright insane! However the point of this ramble is to stick it too the haters |(fat, lard-ish man a few seats across from me) and explain the lovers (Moi). Believe me after reading this if not exceptional written yet stunningly beautiful saga, you'll be looking towards green tree's waiting for the growl of werewolves and the serene symphony of a Cullen laughing as it hunt's. I know I certainly do."

"I miss you. I miss your words. I miss your eyes. Your hands. Everything. Ah for you to love another, it breaks the poet's side of me in two. You won't board the Albion. I understand, I'll find someone new in Arcady. I wish it where you. With every inch of my heart. But I only want for one last thing; listen to The Libertine soundtrack and remember me?"

"I cannot think of love, so I think of how much you tore my soul to pieces. I feel nothing anymore, even the thought of your name rips open the hole in my chest and the sound of your voice is the very salt that keeps the wound raw. I want to hear you in such pain. But only have dreams of calling you 'Master'. Well aren't you domineering? I hope you hit me so hard one day I can't remember your name. I'll stare idly across the bar at you with no cares. But inside? My heart is screeching out, the hurt is so great, I honestly believe my state to be catatonic. It's been so many years since you left me across the bridge. And yet for a second I would never blame you, I love you. And the fact hat you ignore my plea's and confessions of love? Is all the more reason for me to keep you close. Your so Napier it destroys me every morning, just a little Quinn? Harley and Jack? Harley and Jack...Harley and Jack...Harley and Jack..."

Enjoy, but don't steal as everything is under copyright. Mineminemine. :) Goodnight my darling's, I'm staring at the wall again. Sometimes I wish Kool-Aid where real so I could have a chat to a happy face.

I have decided.

2009-08-21T17:40:00.000-07:00

To lose weight, my scales are a harsh mistress and I've no one but new Banana Sugar puffs to blame. :) Seriously my butt and tummy are huge. We shall be addressing this situation by writing down my food habits and goals in my little book. Lovely...ten quid I don't stick to it. And go back too chain smoking and feasting on Red Bull instead. Some people exercise, me? Can't stand it. I walk and that's about it. :) God speed all. I'll leave you with an up date on the Boy. Hare Krishna ;D

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The Boy; wrote a status update that terrified me on Facebook confessing love and all that jazz, was an ASSHOLE while I was in Plymouth on Wednesday and made me cry while hammered on Jager, rung me at 2am last night being very cute. Verdict?; I want to cut his hair like Rob Patz. That's as far as I've got. Instead busying myself with water glugging and De Sade reading. Mother is on her overrated honeymoon soon, 2 weeks alone bar looking after the children. Me thinks naughty morning cuddles shall occur. We will see. :) Goodnight my little horrors.

She's lost control again.

2009-08-07T14:20:00.000-07:00

"The smoke clears and in whispering waves of self-mutilation I can see the dark sky fall to pieces. The world is sometimes too heavy to breath and the dead surround me like an ocean. I can’t recognize the reflection looking back through the mirror. I only grasp the concept of what it’s like to walk through life with a stranger holding a knife to my neck. The empty shell of a shattered boy I know possess is my new skin. Pain is my only horizon, hate, is my only form of flattery, ugly is the world around me and nowhere beyond the infinite infrastructure of the eternal lonely soul can my blackened heart be found. If you want a glimpse of torment and bittersweet visions delight, I’ll gladly cut my head off so you can look down the hole. Nothing there will bring the joyful bliss you crave. Drinking lighter fluid to start a fire inside my guts, I am on a slow painful ride through the underbelly of hell and I wont mind if this is where we say goodbye and go our separate ways. I am inside of you. Living and breathing. I am William Control ."

I need this. If I don't I will fucking explode. I know people don't understand and I get it, but he is one of my universe. He gets why I have to throw myself into a dirty disgusting pit of self despair and hate. Laugh, or scoff if you want. Fuck you. You wish you could feel as deliciously decadent as we do. Sounds effects and over dramatics indeed. I will find a way to go. It's the only one I ask for, not even Way at this point will compare because he has left me. Control will always be in the darkness watching us. My heart hurts to think I cannot go, so I'm not accepting it just yet.

(Pictures and words- William Control)

Gonna tear off all my skin.

2009-07-23T14:40:00.000-07:00

I miss a man. A lot. He knows exactly who he is. Or does he? It's been a long while since I've stepped into the morning sun. I will tear my skin from my bones and just bend over backwards and embrace the hurt. Or am I just being melodramatic? Do you wanna hold my hand? Gerard is singing me to slumber now as I shift my figure on the couch. Him and Tom Collins are the only men I'll need and am likely to keep in my life. For now, I need to smoke. Go listen to I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love and figure me the fuck out. Please. I have brown hair and HATE it. I can smile and murder while I smile. I'll marry the man who tells me who said that. x

Goodness.

2009-07-04T19:45:00.000-07:00

"I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees."

Have you ever heard anything more gorgeously passionate? Every word just spews something so heated and beautiful! I imagine a prime goddess sprawled out among some pastoral field with cherry blossoms covering her skin, and a man lightly touching her face slowly ingesting her scent, breathing in her aura. There hands tightly entwined as her hair lays out behind her golden in the evening sun. Goodness it's so vivid, it took me out of my head for a while just now. But even then I see it as erotic, a sexual awakening almost. A maturity or understanding of your carnal desire. Even the whole poem, by Pablo Neruda, aptly named Every Day You Play is a continual enigmatic picture in verse. Beautifully delicious, but soft and sensual at the same time. Lines seem borderline erotica but then bring it back to this breath taking mental image. I don't usually write about poetry I like, because analysing it is not how I enjoy it, I like to be lost within it but I had to share this with the world. So check it out; and men? Say this softly to your lovers outdoors.

'Every day you play with the light of the universe. Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water. You are more than this white head that I hold tightly as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.

You are like nobody since I love you .Let me spread you out among yellow garlands. Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south? Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window. The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish. Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them. The rain takes off her clothes.
The birds go by, fleeing. The wind. The wind. I can contend only against the power of men. The storm whirls dark leaves and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.

You are here. Oh, you do not run away. You will answer me to the last cry. Cling to me as though you were frightened. Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.
Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,and even your breasts smell of it. While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me, my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running. So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes, and over our heads the gray light unwind in turning fans.

My words rained over you, stroking you. A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body. I go so far as to think that you own the universe. I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.'

A-Okay Mister J. =/

2009-07-02T16:15:00.000-07:00

"And your flesh shall be a great poem."

I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I'm listening to blues and want to be completely unaware of the current flurry of things swirling viciously around my brain. I cannot feel in life, as much as I say it and know it, he still does not believe me. It's so difficult for someone as disgusting as me to be able to understand other humans emotions. It's never been easy, but I do try. So here we are, confused once more about the Y chromosomes of the world. This heat is truly unbearable and I've no clothes on, my hands are shaking at my thoughts and the only thing I think I really want is a fucking drink. Cowardice really, to spew forth one's inner emotions to another while under the influence of much wine. But then, how would we know? Too rash, too sudden. I can't grasp hold of my own feelings, I feel him to be someone who can save me from myself. Save me from the dark side that I ever do always bridle at. A side that will be my most bitter end and even then I shall laugh. Laugh at my own self destruction like a saucy pun on the front of a fucking degenerate red top. Laugh till the heaven's I look up too from what ever Hell I land in shake with my ever lasting and eternal sorrow. Laugh because my dear, darling, decadent father will be standing along side me surely burning my terrible mother with a hot iron as the flames around us ignite the happy family we have finally become. How, how, how this has cheered me. How else can I explain to him that I have no idea what jumps around inside the pit of my stomach when I gaze at him or that now every time I write, he is the current theme of my bitter rambles. And now slowly the piano shall rise, as this weary mind gazes at the skies. And my sweet melancholy passes by. And I care deeply too wonder why. I feel I'm in a rapture over a guy? Don't try and rhyme your way out of this Emily. It's serious. You need lust, hate, sin, pain, and sad because that's all you know. And it makes you feel wonderful, I can think of know better way you spend an evening than shackled in irons on a dirty hotel bed; naked and bleeding. Pleading and screaming but all the while with a smile on your bruised and battered face. And the more decadent of the male race, feasting but boasting over the opulence of his new toy. Your wrists shattered and cut, your stomach bitten till red raw once more. As your fashionable clothes litter the floor. Your arms swelled with cuts so deep no amount of stitches could save you now. That elegant tanned back of yours, covered in scratch marks angry and throbbing. They are the map to your pleasure. A running commentary of your lust. A way for you to look back and remember a particular position or moment when you where truly happy in your surroundings. And as you heal, you get more sad. And with that you begin to feel mad. Because you wish to god you could be excited as the rest of the world. So you mope. And you write. And wait until he wants another bite. And your body is a shocking fright. And he hits you with all his might. Squeezing your throat oh so tight. Kind of wishing you had a loving light. And thinking of that distant face all night. I'm aware that he is the first thing I think of when I rise in the morning but I fear we shall fizzle out when he realises I'm unlovable in any context of the word. Who would want to adore such a filthy human being like myself? I've learnt to adore the darkly dissolute side of myself. But for other's it's a different story. I do feel for him. I do. It's hard but it's there, without any willing. I'm unaware of how to hold on too it but I will grasp I suppose. I think he feels the same but I don't know once more. Where we aware of this happening when we stepped into each others live's? I hope not, I don't like making a sweet impression because it's really not me. He believes it to be so, but he is very much wrong. But maybe, just maybe he may advance that side more so and show what feeling is really like. And yet, is that what you really want gentle lunatic? I need to sleep and dream of the great Albion taking me off to Arcadia. At least I can depend on that.

Tip of the day? Never let anyone in. I told myself this 3 years ago and have been doing just fine up until now. It's not his fault, it's mine. But I stress I know it's not love. Love is for people much stronger than I. Love is something that makes me crawl inside. I feel a strong connection however. But even that could only be the fact we like to spew sweet nothings under the influence of wine. No one knows. Silly thing. Oh and listen to Carter Burwell and drink tea.

Sigh.

2009-06-30T13:22:00.000-07:00

If drinking vodka and cider alone while listening to City and Colour and Laura Marling is wrong then....there's something rotten in Emily Towers. Just spilt cider on my thighs and the sky outside is rolling over to a pinker shade. The piano is softly twirling my head into oblivion and I'm numbing the pain of something I'm quite unsure of. A great lad said once, "what is love?" I loved him once, and now so many men are clambering to stand by my side I don't know what to do. Please don't mistake that line for narcissism. It isn't, it's truly factual. Let's summarise;

I've always had a thing for a man who skates. We know this to be purely lust.
He who hath muscles shall make me blush.
The man that understands my mind and words? I don't know.

What do we feel? Is it the same with all of them? Or does he actually understand? It's not love, I can't feel love. That's just the carnal part of me, the dark decadent, disgusting side that only a few can touch. Only few may touch. Only a few can adhere to it. That's what he said. He said something about loving a part of each other that neither may understand. So whats his I wonder? Too much drink had passed at that point and I don't remember the rest. And I'm sure he doesn't either. Sigh. We all have a dark side Rochester, it's the true libertines who succumb to it and let it lead. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else than my dark side. I'll count down the days until you decide to join me.

It's been an odd couple of days. x

It's far too late.

2009-06-24T18:16:00.000-07:00

But I just found this in my scribble book, "We dance along Brown Bridge Road because we're drowning in a sea of ink and ethics. And we've wandered into the cold." I remember those day's. I think I wrote it for a boy, but I can't recall. I wish I could write idealistically again, but this pen just doesn't steer towards Arcady like it used to too. Maybe a particular gent as jolted my little quixotic mind into something more real? Hmm, silly little thing. I wish I could figure him out. It seems we are in dangerous territory ladies and gent's. Pardon me while I go mull over this ardent and frankly baffling dichotomy I seem to landed myself in. After that, off to my darling Arcadia once more, to dream of rural lands and underground bands. Goodnight beautifuls xoxo

Tip of the day? Wear sunscreen. :) I adore that song, but seriously if you don't want your back to resemble what can better be described as lobster-esque, slap it on like there's nobodies business. Tip 2? Foster's is a vile drink, along with gin but can be teamed with Fleet Foxes to over come it's crippling taste and become somewhat refreshing. :) Last tip; never trust a man who pees publicly in a local sunbathing spot, especially when the said spot is vastly populated by children and young adults like me and my lot whom where trying to read. I don't think I could go back to reading about orgies in quite the same way as before...now pull the other one. Actually don't. That's what he did. Vile. :) x

Jukebox for today; CATS soundtrack and Fleet Foxes.

Wow.

2009-06-21T15:04:00.000-07:00

Something is amazingly different between us. He positioned us together in a stance that I do not want to forget as long as I live. I want it permanently etched in my brain until I'm old and grey. I'm sitting on his lap, legs entwined on either side of his hips, raised slightly. My arms are around his neck, his hands rested on the small of my back. Kissing fiercely, they creep up and scratch my back until I cannot breathe any longer. A flurry of long hair and white skin, he holds me back and back as far as I can go and kisses down my neck. His hands support me and I grasp at his arms. My breathe slowly flutters as we clinch in the tightest, hottest embrace I have ever known. My leg's creep around his waist and we repeat everything again, only the actions are faster and the nails dig deeper...

Wow. :) I like my evenings in. xoxo

Up The Bracket

2009-06-17T12:52:00.000-07:00

I'm not don't fret darlings.

So we travel on paths already built by the greats before us. We have no war. No revolution. No vision. Everything worth doing is done. And the Skin's generation shamble towards the sun. Sigh, I suppose it's another one of those evenings, I'm blissfully happy because the night is soft, the music is stunning and the tea is warm. But how my heart tears. Fractions of inch's pulling away, shredding even. There's a man I know and he understands it or so I believe him too. He is a dark creature and a wonderful one, not that he realises it though, Isn't that just beautiful? The first one of so many to understand the urge to spew words, stanza's and scribes. I thought I only found a libertine like that in Doherty but no. His name written on the inside of my skull as I rise in the morning. I feel so confused. I feel a want but not from the heart, from the brain perhaps, from the inner sector that longs for someone to enjoy Baudelaire with them? Eugh the piano is smooth and the night is now settled. My shoulder's arch. Back to the beat of a thousand men. Simple and effective, the blond settles in place. With make up smearing down her face. She sways in the chair, with her tussled say tangled hair. Without a care. Don''t you fucking dare. A room of trinkets filled with carnal and corruption. A lair, a home, a gentle lunatics den. She swives with soul wafting around, mixing with 02. And she feels so blue. But not when she thinks of you. Vampire books and 80's hooks. Seedy line's and bus stop crimes. Black and tea and a disgust of three. Polka dots and mismatch socks. Belle De Jour and Primark couture. A hate for hearts and a love in 2 parts. I hate rambles. I hate rambles. I hate rambles. I need to be better. I need to be better I need to be better. I miss a man. I hate my arms. I have too many books, I cannot stand being 'cool', I'm not very cool. Bring me back to the opium filled fields of Arcady please, let's just run up Montmarte and forget who we where before. Under the moulin and fall asleep under a tree. Forever, and never.

"Some people were born to roam. Some people they roam this world alone."

I've found new obscure crushes.

2009-06-12T15:24:00.000-07:00

I really have far too many...I'm ill so this is taking up my time. I'm stuffy and hot. Hmph.

Micheal McIntyre. He's a smiley posh man, with the most lovely delivery!
Russell Howard, Bristonian, cheeky, very very funny. It's what my mother would have wanted for my husband. :)
Sam Riley. Any man that can portray Ian Curtis with such beauty is a okay in my book.
Robert Pattinson. Not obscure in the slightest. Fuck Edward Cullen. No seriously fuck Edward Cullen. Aha.
Daisy Lowe, good god. She is something.
Christan Slater. As Clarence Wurley. I adore him and his murdering ways.
That one off Big Brother. That long haired one, Kris. Mmmmmm.
Pete Bennett. He made my evenings a bit brighter.
Sonic. Mobius don't know how lucky they are....

It's far to hot. And I'm sick. Aiden by the way made me realise that I am so very much older now but I can still sweat it up like the best of the kids about. I stared and chatted and exchanged pleasantries, gawked coolly at Mr Wiggins from across the underground club...realised Mr Francis shouldn't snot on the front row and wear RayBan's inside. Slightly pretencions, but you can't deny a Morrissey T-shirt can you? :) Perfect gig, just fantastic. I was sweating awfully and winked at some indie cum scene boys in tight jeans while drinking rum. If I had said a certain stanza would they have stayed longer? Who knows darling's.

Limber, Confused, Despairing, Limber, Dry.

2009-06-08T12:25:00.000-07:00

I am so, so very confused. This awful dichotomy I seem to have fallen in is, in the words of Darling Dean 'tearing me apart.' I know I wish to stay in Plymouth for the forthcoming summer, this is all I want with all my heart. I want to stay, work, write, play and laugh. With the ideal of this beautiful few weeks, with some of the most beautiful people I've ever met makes my smile grow even greater at every thought. Alas though, it's not so easy. Something a job won't fix, I have no income, I have no help in that department. Thus I cannot stay. And it makes me weep at night just thinking about it. I do not want to go back to my former self. But that in these cases is the best option and it hurts. I do not want to hurt anyone by going as I know it's the weak thing to do. They can't read this but for that my darling's I'm sorry. This year was the best thing I've ever done. I cannot say how much the people mean to me, how much one of my closest people seems to me. She is so fantastic she doesn't even realise it, I couldn't be anymore proud of her, the thought that all her hard work has paid off makes me erupt with joy and she is going to do great things in the world. I truly believe that. And I, the small little thing going back for fear of making everyone unhappy. I do so many things to make them all happy and I forget I need to be happy too. But I don't care as long as everyone else is content. I don't want to make a decision because I'm terrified. I miss my family and I miss my friends. Surely I can come visit all the time? God I'll spend my last penny coming to see her! Because I need her to know how much she's in my heart and how much it rips me open thinking that I'm making her upset by leaving. We had so many amazing plans and because I'm a fucking lazy, disgusting person those plans cannot come into fruition. It is my fault and I can't believe I've been so lapse. For that I am sorry. I try so hard but it's just not quite enough. I've Aiden tomorrow and all I can think of is making my life a lot easier for everyone else. Morrissey sings me tonight. Melancholy lullaby. I'm catatonic with hate and fright. I wonder if the greats knew how to die?...

"I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour. But heaven knows I'm miserable now. I was looking for a job, and then I found a job. And heaven knows I'm miserable now. In my life. Why do I give valuable time. To people who don't care if I live or die? Two lovers entwined pass me by. And heaven knows I'm miserable now. I was looking for a job, and then I found a job. And heaven knows I'm miserable now. In my life. Oh, why do I give valuable time. To people who don't care if I live or die? What she asked of me at the end of the day. Caligula would have blushed. "You've been in the house too long" she said. And I (naturally) fled. In my life. Why do I smile. At people who I'd much rather kick in the eye ?"

Warm.

2009-06-02T16:12:00.000-07:00

On the Jukebox; Who's Loving You By The Jackson 5.
I'm utterly baking. This calls for sexy Mexican soul a la Tito and the Tarantula's me thinks. I'm helping the housemate tonight with her art work, I dare say it's tedious. She's such a trooper for keeping up with it. Total showers today? Two. Cold ones mind you. Peppermint in your black tea ALWAYS works :):):) That my friend's is the discovery of the day.

Confession of the day? I still have raging crushes on the following obscure people;

Jacob Brent as Mister Mistoffelee's. He is just fantastic. Mesmerising even. :)
Alex DeLarge. If you don't know who this is...I pity you. :]
Mark Hamill's Joker in Batman; TAS
Richard Ayoade. The man has hair I dream of.
Edward Norton. Arguably but not really, the BEST actor ever.
Michael Keaton :)
Morrissey. No need for explanation. Go buy The Queen is Dead.
John Bender The Breakfast Club was fun the second he stepped in front of that car...
Luke Howell I tip my hat to Kelly. Well done girl! Well done.
Any man I meet called Beau At legal age.
Carlos Barat. A man who's cool factor is off the chart. I like his eyes.
Keanu Reeves, only in Constantine though. What can I say? Any man who wears a suit and chain smoke for a whole movie is a-okay in my book.
Axl Rose. Circa 1987. If he didn't speak. Just sang and wore leather.
Nick Wiggins. Even before the aviators, this man made me blush during World By Storm :)
Rose Mcgowan, scratch the crush. I'm in love with her.
A certain long haired lad. Hehe.
Dexter, obviously Micheal C Hall is an attractive man but there's something about a Darkly Dreaming Dexter that I can Definitely Decadently Devour ;]
Kevin Bacon. Even when he's playing an invisible rapist.
Heath Ledger's Joker. I was skeptical, until he came on. I must of scratched my thighs up badly the second time I saw it. My nails where covered in blood.=/
Pixie Geldof. Cool, beautiful, amazing dress sense. My number one girl crush.
My Year 10 'lover.' No one has yet to turn me on like he did.
Any man who can pull of a Jeff Buckley song well.
Actually Jeff Buckley.
A man in denim. With Raybans and a brilliant t-shirt that can make me smile.

That's a long list...

I'm all about girl power I promise. But let's face it, the world is full of some interesting men is it not? I'm not superficial really...:) Love to all xxxx

Licentiousness.

2009-05-10T16:21:00.000-07:00

‘Hate.’
"Softly and gentle; my lover lay’s.
As the sun screams harsh into a new day.
Enthralled by lust; as our bodies untangle
Purple welts and blood, my darling body mangled.
With wakeful repose he avoids my glance.
As I arise; naked and watch my goose-bumps dance.
A quiet smile and whiff of decadence.
I wonder when my brain will finally see sense.
I watch him tumble out my white painted door.
And I fall down laughing on my licentious floor.
Weeks have passed since I was skin to skin.
I do hate to see my libertinism win.
So I scratch and scream while the nights roll round.
Banging fist after fist on the cold sodden ground
To elevate this burning that no one can feel
But I; so sad but insanity has never felt more real
Only a mere mile away is the man who ends it all
Yet I, the gentle lunatic shan’t make that lustful call.
To grasp, to hate;
To sin a sin so great
To live with a lie
To try so hard not to die.
The night has fallen quickly
And my despair is far too desperate to see. "
　
　
　
All my drinks taste like blood and the contents are never empty. The slow paced, destitute saviour of my life is a liar and I can only hope that my friend doesn’t hit me around the head with a milk bottle. What life is this? A series of failure’s, unrequited guessing. My day filled to the brim with ache and nothing at all. Just imagine, week’s seemingly stocked with empty promises and early morning revelations. Even now as the clock strikes five, my body creaks with the sound of fatigue and misery. Planning in my head, a day I shall never see fit to see. This ache of relentless lack of control. Watching friends bear children on the dole. I am a walking sham. I have no path to walk upon in the night. I may not look up towards the moonlit sky that gleams hopes and dreams, I can not cry. My mother never held me and my father turned away from my sobs. A babe, nestled beneath a dark and damp treacherous bosom of a gluttonous whore. And me? I was that babe, stifled to feed my lust for family. In everything, I painted and drew, I sang and scribed but nothing twanged even the deepest sector of her heart. No amount of crayons could scribble a picture worthy of her love. I’m a child of 4 and please Mother pick me from this floor. I sauntered and I scuffled, I dreamed and I muffled. I lied and I tried my hardest to cry! I am human. Only 19 years has past and I have seen some horrors because not all malady’s are plagued with violence. One may be neglected to the up most degree emotionally. Physically is just a step towards pure torture. And if anything I blame her everyday for not merely hitting us. My brain, the one thing that separates me from her, my wit, the muse the teachers cried! Is nothing in her eyes. No, my knowledge and my dreams of violins and Arcadian sunsets where wasted on her. She scooped my hope out with her cheap nails and scratched my life from my very heart. To waste such a mind, which is now tainted, it’s painted, painted black from hate. Pure animalistic hate. A raw emotion that is deep inside me, as if fire is being born within my very stomach, as the cello’s staccato, I scream into a pillow to remind myself I am very much alive. These days I can’t see myself doing a lot. Fair little thespian I imagine people would say, look at her grace, that poise, she can certainly spin a phrase no? I heard no praise. We struggled to survive under what the infinite Being had laid before us. I remember cold nights and empty threats, I still see the branches tumble from the forest and the smell of varnish coats my tiny body. Terrified of owl’s and foxes, pylon’s and rocks. Have you ever woken up to find your family tree shifted in the night? Come here, go there, she’s a urchin, no wait she’s mine, who are you? Where am I? I longed for piano lessons as a child but I only received life lessons as brutal as any adult could take. It would destroy a decent man, so what has it done to a small girl? Nihilism is funny that way. I no longer feel the need for affection, or love. I crave a licentious hate, the one my fellow libertine’s scribed in those ages where I would have felt right at home. My perpetual essence of self regret, painful memories, dissolution, hate, terror and abandonment. Wrapped in all and everything, a need to feel loved by the 2 people that created me. They made my eyes, my head, my fingers and toes. I am a part of them. But I have never in my life felt more unlike and distant from them. Genes may be what the scientists say. I say they know fuck all, because I would do anything to keep my tainted genes at bay.

Violette Leduc

2009-04-27T14:30:00.000-07:00

is just stunning. My favourite extract from Taxi is one of the most amazing thing's I've ever had the pleasure to read.

I'm Going To Be Sore
"Come back...come back because I'm back.
Sit on the mattress.

Sit the way I'm sitting. Stretch out your legs on either side of my hips.

Press your eyebrows to my eyebrows.

I'd rather press my hands against the small of your back.

I'm entering. At the place where the hair stops.

Let's divide the earth in two.

A place to get tripe. Known to no one. Known to everyone.

We speak otherwise. I'm helping you and our hands are in the way.

The rhythm of life.

The rhythm at all.

A promising monotony.

My brain is exhausted, it's hanging by a thread.

Banal perfection.

Amazing takeoff. Boy, I loved you from afar.

Bitch, I would kill for you.

Let's get rid of these words that mean nothing.

You're rocking me and I'm moving.

Street rat, I throw your head into the dust. Too fast.

Too fast?

You're drugging me.

I'm going to be sore.

I'm as soft as velvet.

I'm mad from our ascent.

You're drugging me, you're drugging me.

I'll be torn to shreds!

The city fogged in. The fog will lift.

A tree...lightning...any minute...

Your face is anxious.

I'm struggling.

You're illuminating me.

I'm flying overheard, I'm soaring, I'm in the galleys.

The many flashes of the midnight sun. Lighted from within. You give me light.

I want that strange light in your shoulders.

I'm opening my eyes. You're in command. How sad.

It's the nature of man.

I'd never forgive you if you stopped.

I'm giving you my last strength.

Embers. I'm being ripped.

Rave, my love.

Exhaust yourself. Not enough ashes on your face.

I can't go on.

Let's sweep aside the barriers. Let us through...

The avalanche!

Roar.

Running water...we're travelling.

What?

Nothing. Hang on, hold tight.

We're passing the rocks.

The palm groves.

The dovecotes.
Be quiet.
Why should I be quiet? You're my love.
Be quiet!
Two mayflies...one on top of the other...in the air...high above the summer!

Be quiet. I...

Me to...Me too..."

Honestly. This is maybe the reason I would want love, so sex could be like this. This exact conversation omitted by lust. But I as a woman am too licentious. How unfortunate. What does it take to be licentious? Tell me, a beating here and a leather whip there? Do not judge me for what I have become. Try being slapped across the face on a cold winters day and feel the heat spread like blood upon a glass floor. Try that, then come and tell me I'm immoral. Who knows? You might just enjoy it. You would think that the underbelly of today's youth would be wrought with under age mothers and binge drinking ASBOS. Oh no, there are a secret few that should have been born in the 18th century. Poets and libertines, drunks and intellects, artists and whores. We are all in the wrong era. We would have been right at home in Montmarte, sipping la fee verte, smoking opium, scribing with street walkers and drooling over the Moulin dancers. Who knows? maybe I would have had the pleasure of being painted by Toulouse-Lautrec. I would have sat in a moulin for days, barely stirring and fermenting in a world of corruption and decadence. Flowered wallpaper peeling as the smoke lingers in the air and I create a book of works so profound and trash they made Rochester blush. Can piety and corruption sit side by side in this working world? I think not darlings. x

Why can I not cry?

2009-04-21T18:05:00.000-07:00

I feel so empty inside. This is not a ridiculous cry for attention, nor is it a hapless and fleeting bout of self doubt. I have felt this way for years now. I need help, I don't know how to cry and I have this sense of emptiness inside me that makes me have these disgusting panic attacks in the night. I'm terrified of my mother and I'm worried my father never loved me. I'm a young girl who will always hate men for what they have done to me. I let boys beat me senseless so I don't have to feel anything at all ever. I can't begin to give in too my own emotions, because I come crashing down. I need someone to tell me it's not my fault, that everything in my life that has happened is not my fault. You see, I cover up what I really feel too everyone affiliated with me. My family, friends, teachers; it's so much easier pretending your a confident and stable person when in actual fact your a fucking disgusting human with no morals or love or self control. Do my mother and father really know what they have created? Or am I just a drama queen? Is all this in my head? I honestly don't think it is. She's done this to me. I can't believe I can actually function in the real world. Do you want to know what I find attractive truthfully in a male? I like a man who looks like he could probably kill me. A man with just as much depressions, addictions and problems as I have. Someone who finds joy in hitting me around the face and shoving my head into the ground. I can't tell what I feel but I do fall in lust with villains, rogues, and evil men. Like my father? Was he bad? I don't know. All I remember is that he liked having me around for a while. I miss him so, so much, I wonder if my life would have been different if I where with him? Why did you leave me? Where are you now? Was I bad? Those three letters? That word? It's taboo, dad dad dad dad dad dad. I've never been allowed to say it. There's not poetry here, no beautiful words to help me drift off into some fake fucking world, I can't be in Arcadia forever. What has crawled up inside me? What has made me the sick person I am tonight? My parents made me from lies. I was created on a lie and I'm pretty sure lies will be the end of me. I'm the product of a liar and a coward. What the fuck does that make me? People really think they know me but honestly they don't know shit. And I won't ever let them know either. So yeah I'll smile but I'm crying and crumbling behind that smile. Is there something wrong with me? I think so. I need to feel again, not hurt. Please no more hurt. No fucking weave your web of lies you hateful whore. Don't you dare tell me it's in my head! Don't you dare tell me I'm using a sob story and don't you fucking dare use my family against me! I am not a part of you! Nothing inside me is part of you. Because if you try to put me down again and make me as crazy as you are, then I will destroy you. And that is a promise. Don't make me fall asleep tonight, I don't think I could wake up. Ever.

"I've been away for every day and every fucking night. I've seen your eyes, I've seen your eyes, I've seen your eyes. I've been away for every day and every fucking night. And with every city, it gets harder. You gotta mouth like a razor-blade, it cuts so deep. So kiss my wrists my neck and give me eternal sleep. You say, you say, I'm only a phone call away. But for me, this distance is decay. So line my throat with lipstick and leave my blood for flies. Ill gurgle the blues under a sea of lies. Before you take me to sea, let me kiss the bride. Now take my body to the shore and ill wait for the tide. I will always love you. But i need pills to sleep. I have always failed you. So throw away my memories. So throw away my memories "

HATE.

2009-04-20T07:17:00.000-07:00

I've decided that I officially hate my parents. This may seem rather adolescent to those reading but I assure you it really isn't. My mother is one of the most treacherous beings I've ever come across in my short life time. A liar and a cheat, she has corrupted my mind and is solely responsible in making me have panic attacks in the evening. She is despicable. My father, I miss him everyday. I don't know what happened, one day he just disappeared and never came back. It hurts a lot. People forget that intrinsically you feel the need to want love from the people that created you. I don't have that, yes I have my sisters and brother but it's not enough sometimes. I have no love and it's hard to get by. I'm accused, loathed and used by my mother, she told me a secret that could rip her life apart. And yet I cannot tell anyone and the guilt eats me up inside. How could she do what she did? In all her life all she has done is screw her children up and now here I am at my last end, searching rampantly my father's name on Google for some hope that maybe I can escape her. But as it is hopeless, I suppose I'm supposed to remain here in limbo with hate, pain, sin and fear forever. Great.

So...I am a shambles.

2009-04-06T04:09:00.000-07:00

I'm ill. Very, very much so in fact. One needs to be comforted at this time but no I'm babysitting. Dire, I've sloped back down South to see the family for Easter, me thinks it shall do me the world of good. However as soon as I get here I fall ill. With that logic added with some theism, I could conclude God hates me. But I won't and haven't so we're all back on speaking terms :) I'm ever, ever so poorly and me think it's my best friends fault...I love her far too much and so get her sickness. I was however wish this was a sleeping sickness. Blergh. I may demand copious of cups of tea from my brother however he seems far too wrapped up in Guitar bloody Hero and Spongebob to look after his dear old sister...and just think I changed his nappies. So yes, I'm awfully tired and can't think of much. Although this new wave of food shall surely end badly...I'm apologizing to my thighs before hand. :) Good morrow darlings, I'm sure I'll go into a fever tonight and ramble some more. See you at the throw down ;D x

Knives.

2009-04-03T08:47:00.000-07:00

I am indeed a Scavenger of the Damned.

In this life, many people find things to help them overcome that over bearing and crippling harsh side of reality. Some play golf and some do heroin, there's always something that the human race as people find to get them through life's harsh tumbles. Myself? I use music, like many before me and those before them. We are the kind that put a huge and emotional reliance on a certain band or type of music. For me, it's My Chemical Romance and Aiden. These 2 bands have been in my life for a while now and everything I've been through, horrifically, sentimentally, terrible or happy, they have been there to smile and cry with me. It's not just being a 'fan girl' like so many believe some devotee's are. No, it's a genuine appreciation and love for someones art. Gerard has been my role model growing up in my teens, a awful difficult, uncertain time for me especially but he was there singing and screaming orders at me. I learnt at a young age of revenge and how to dream. Perhaps I took it too far and now I'm a nihilistic idealist but those 5 beautiful boys taught me how to love myself again and how life is a dark place but if us the army would just soldier on, we could find a better place. Aiden have been there to help me get angry again. To tell myself, "hey who the fuck are you kidding? Your a disgusting human being, so fucking jump and scream with us." Its in our heads, it's in our hearts, The world by storm. Is there anything more motivational and passionate? These may seem like mere words to others, but if you've been in a crowded venue with 300 other kids, hot and sweaty, barely breathing and screaming those words with spite and devotion dripping being every word all together as one then I can't even tell you the joy and euphoria it brings. Words are so difficult to describe it. I've followed them. I've laughed at them, I've hated them, I've talked to them, I've hurt myself for them, I've believed in them.

You may wonder what on earth this post is about? These bands made albums last year that made me forget that impact they made on my life. It was a shambles, MCR made a conceptual album for the fans. We where the Black Parade until Radio 1 decided one song was pretty catchy. That was it, people who didn't understand the message where playing it on there phone's, the pure reason us kids are alive today was because those boy's pulled us through it. Who the fuck did they think they where exploiting my band? The reason I was walking down the street where on the front of some girly magazine and I wept. Aiden made a record too. A record that can only be described as Smiths-esque, this is all well and good but they weren't inspiring us! They weren't telling us to fuck each other up and follow them into the sun! They where singing about love, girls and fucking flowers. We switched off, we didn't understand either of those albums. As successful as they where we didn't understand. I didn't understand. William started William Control and I started to take notice once again, dirty electro music being right up my street, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time. Hope. The feeling I used to get at 14 while walking to a punk show in my Converse and baggy jeans. I'm listening to Scavengers of the Dammed, Aiden's new single from the new album Knives. And I've got to say, I've not been this excited in a long time. MCR are on works on there new album that wont be conceptual, but a raw album. Like Bullets. Life now can only wait until they unleash them on the world. And us as the loyal followers of all these years will come out of hiding. Walk out of the sunlight and run down a dusty dark alley to sing along to decadence, blood, sweat, faith and a sense of family. That's what we are a fucking family. And we my friends are ready to take the world by storm because we're not o fucking kay. I say fuck fashion, fuck being cool, witty or dapper. All I need now is that. A dirty venue, my boys screaming at me to bleed and believe and the rampant packed kids feeding off pure energy and love. It's only matter of time and I'm here. Screaming and waiting. x

For the love of fucking H christ.

2009-04-01T18:09:00.000-07:00

How on earth do these things happen to me? Honestly if I had a penny...I now at this moment completely understand why women hate men. I'm smelling of sex and the said male? Asleep on my beautiful bed where I lay this creative head. Long hair everywhere...jeez I fucking hate humans. Fuck this Control would understand, the human race are fucking terrible. I apologise for the swears, that is if your a religious man. But truthfully? I don't think I could become more desolate. I love you Rochester, Control, Brand...at least you know what you really want. x

Too many days, not enough nicotine.

2009-03-26T07:17:00.000-07:00

Rayban's, quiffed hair, a general appreciation of The Smiths equals my perfect man.

All words and no smokes make Emily a very dull girl. You can tell that by quoting obvious 80's movie references that I am very much bored with life. I dare say I've enough to do but I couldn't care less about doing them. I've books to read, Cd's to review, compliments to spread...you know that old chestnut. Instead I'm watching Family Guy with the commentary on. Oh lord. Is this my life from now on, however that's not to say I'm not slightly excited when I hear the deep tones of Mr Macfarlane's voice :) Excuse me ladies and gent's I must go, me and Michael Keaton have an arrangement. I'm going to watch Night Shift and giggle every time he comes on screen. Well I say giggle...I am filthy ;) xxx

Seem's I have many things to be done

2009-03-09T11:09:00.000-07:00

Time is Running Out. I must;

Figure out what on earth I intend to do with my life. Be it move to America, stay here and get a job, stay here and hate my degree, go home and get a job, or just give up.
Secure some sort of niche for myself, I mean how do I want to look now I'm getting older?
Buy MAC makeup
Get tattoo's
Lose my cider belly
Buy more books
Become a Suicide Girl, but then renounce considering everyone thinks it's uncool
Sell my things on Ebay
Find a soulmate. Or just a gorgeous man.

I think this may be harder than I anticipated...=/ I've a black coffee and no smokes. Life is truly difficult. xoxo

It's Not A Fashion Statement, Its A Fucking Blog.

2009-03-07T11:54:00.000-08:00

. Bring me the Blog.

. Livin' On A Blog.

. Chasing Blog.

. Dude where's my Blog?

.4 Weddings and a Blog

. My Chemical Blog

. AeroBlog.

. Blog Is For Lovers.

.YouMeAtBlog

.Forever The Sickest Blog

.Silence In Black and Blog

. Famous Last Blogs

. HelloGoodBlog.

. Blog and Colour

. AlexisonBlog.

. Kids In Glass Blogs.

. All Time Blog

. She Will Blog You

. Give Em Blog, Kid

. My Paper Blog

. Her Portrait In Blog

. Here In My Blog

. What Blog Did Next

. Jealous Blogs Think Alike

. Save It For The Blogroom

. Devil In The Midnight Blog

. Boys Like Blogs

. Dance Hall Blog

. Sic Transit Gloria...Blog Fades

. Beauty In The Blogdown

. Don't Blog Back

. Error: Blog

. All We Know Is Blog

. Let It Blog

. Razor's Blog

. Blog Will Tear Us Apart

. Truth Is A Terrible Blog

. For A Pessimistic, I'm Pretty Blog

. For Stevies Blog Only

. It Was Written In Blog

. The Blog Life Is Gonna Kill You

. Pete Blogerty

Me and my best friend played this wonderful game on the trip back from Bristol and it amused us for ages on the M5. Try it with your friends, out at the races or even out buying hammocks. I promise you will be crying with laughter. Now on to the 'cock' suggestions. ;) xoxo

Alas at this late hour...

2009-03-05T15:57:00.000-08:00

I have found my new, second design for my family tribute tattoo.

Regardless of me not even having the first one yet; that's completely erroneous to the point. These things must be planned properly! It's Latin letters of my brother and sisters first names alongside small black stars each one the size of their age, so Katie first, then Sophie, then Chloe and lastly with a baby star Jamie :) Its going to be positioned on my ankle/ lower foot and shall look gorgeous. However I'll have to get my Arcadian one on my back first! This is only a quick post as I must go write some scribes, this photograph below has inspired me copious amounts! Sweet dreams all <3

Never A Frown With Golden Brown

2009-03-03T20:00:00.001-08:00

I swear I've insomnia.

It's not healthy to be awake till 7 in the morning every day. I feel as if my eyes will fall out yet I'm far from sleepy. I was reading through my old journals, I was at the tender age of 15 and I'm surprised I wasn't typecast as a New Yorker considering the amount of neurotic and depressed bile that seems to be spewing from it. As you can see not much has changed, ha now pull the other one. :) Here's a snippet, "finally in my desolate, crippling depression have I never truly been more fascinated with my own vile emotions." Someone swallowed an Aiden album and it got stuck on a Poe stanza I think...what on earth was I thinking! Ah to be young, come to think of it I quite enjoyed my little idealistic situations and fantasy's, my little obsession's with bands and men with 'guy liner'. Lovely times.

I have a new band for any lovelies to check out, Bark Cat Bark on Myspace Music. A french classical player with beautiful visions of Paris and death. Sounds awful, it isn't I promise it will make you want to learn the harp...or at least date someone who can, I know I now do ;) Also I love the Stranglers, Golden Brown makes heroin addicts look like bohemian beauties. Although as a Libertine I thought that regardless...jeez it's far too late to think. I think my time hear is almost at it's end and to be honest I'm glad. Anyone wants to take me away to somewhere beautiful then I will gladly elope. Men, however stunning and interesting they be I still think I would be better off having a couple of kittens. Names? Abercrombie, Morrissey, Sonny and Gerard. :)

Confession of the day; I used to have a BIG thing for Lauri Ylonen from The Rasmus. That's right, the lad with the feathers on his bonce. In fact...fuck it he would still get it. :)

Your so quick to stick to that scum.

2009-03-02T18:52:00.000-08:00

"Take a step off of that silver bird from your planet. And you brought a little bit of that cold with you. Ring me out like you would your bastardizing father. And you re so quick to stick to that scum. Hungry like a piranha. Swallow a little of that sea. Now taste a little bit of that salt in me. Throw up a little of it on your knees. Now doesn't that bring you back to the beginning. Before you poured your elements away. Now sing back to the bottom of it all. Seal your lips with the black stitch of a secret. Parade with that speechless dryness of the desert. Lay flat under the lime light and feed off of the fiction. Cold callus and boiled between the bleak deep of your dirty hands. Swallow a little of that sea. Now taste a little bit of that salt in me. Throw up a little of it on your knees. Now doesn't that bring you back to the beginning. Before you poured your elements away. Now sing back to the bottom of it all."

Just amazing, honestly. I adore Sonny's lyrics, anyone interested check out Sonny Moore on Myspace :) A little plug for you there! I've been ignoring everyone this week, the low feelings haven't shifted but that can't be helped. Things are taking a downward spiral right now and the only thing I can think of doing is sleeping peacefully for once. I just had a nap, dreamt of Control, we where running away from life as my sisters screamed after me. I could never tell them that I in actual fact hate animation, despise Plymouth and want to elope to Ohio to work for a record company, or follow a band as a merch slinger. These things need to be kept in my idealistic head. I've a huge purple bite on my left arm from Campbell and my legs ache from walking away from my exhaustion. Must we all be so jaded? Go inside your head, it's much nicer there. I've reverted back to Aiden and don't want to come out, it's in our heads, it's in our hearts, the world by storm. Why can't I go back and sing? Am I too old? Am I not the dapper electric queenie I once was singing and swinging my microphone like Lazzara? Dire. The wine has dried up and I feel as useful and fulfilled as Withnail...no more smokes I may revert to over excessive orange juice consumption and Nightmare Anatomy on repeat to douse this compulsive nature I seem to have inherited. I walked past Courtney park where I used to walk with him. I stubbed my Marlboro out on my arm and kept walking. I saw the bandstand and shed a tear to Echo and the Bunnymen. "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return." x

Control

2009-02-24T13:46:00.000-08:00

He is essentially one of the most incredible people I've ever witnessed. A feeling of complete and utter serenity and devotion hits me whenever I have the pleasure of listening, speaking or looking at him. A poet at best, this man has been through every heartache, pain, suffering or just plain desolate part of my short life. And yet here he is screaming down a microphone to decadent electro beats expressing his hate through the turn of phrase on an album cover. And yet I can't help but look down and think " well this life in it's entirety is actual awful." You see I'm what the libertine lads of London call an idealist, I run away from reality and hide up in my own Arcadian world. A pastoral Britain where you don't have to be turfed off to university to do something you don't like, a beautiful place where poets and rude boys roam free, just somewhere stunning where I don't feel like throwing myself in front of a bus every time I wake up. And that my friends is not very healthy because then I find it extremely hard to come back down from it, I actually find it crippling...

So I listen to his kind words or wisdom and live fast, hopefully I won't die young but with a close personal relationship with Mr Marlboro who knows. I digress at this very moment in time I feel low, so I watch him in a vain and desolate hope that one day we will speak more and he will help me live and make my life permanently like my own beautiful Arcadia. I'm on the Albion and I'm waiting.

"Sadness in London Town. I walk the streets of Leicester Square. Sadness in my own heart sound I walk till dawn then disappear."- William Control. Hate Culture London Town.

Ditty's (copyrighted and all that)

2009-02-23T16:30:00.000-08:00

Oh Fair Isle.
Oh how the lingering limber libertines scribe. Every time they see a weeping child. A young ‘un grasping a dib dab and following the concrete tribe. Can’t you smell the sickness; can’t you sense its bile? If this land where truly great, then it wouldn’t turn over its pride for barrel and crate. Filled with beer, sex and greed; Non whimsical wisdom, utter sleaze and a working woman’s seed. Hooray for our pride, that age old patriarchal parenting. So this is England? I wouldn’t be able to tell you a thing. Welcome to our island, so beautiful like the days of yore. Who would have predicted it was such a wretched eyesore. Slags, tramps and scroungers all thieving and breeding; ask your youngest who’s our prince and Queen. So I the scribe shall scratch and shatter my land’s traits and the latter. I’ll tip my hat to you shambles, your voice rings loud and true. Though it seems Britain has lost its once noble clue.

Upon A Ship They Sail.
The rowing, the ache. To once ends love's heartbreak. This discourse shall be his downfall. While the country's castles stand tall. Innocent lover, gentle and true; I whisper sweet nothings to you. A kiss goodbye and a tear despairs. Of how it feels to leave you there. On the Albion I sail till another day. A beautiful January or gorgeous May. But alas as I awake, my body wretched still. To find it was all a dream and your face is wandering still.

The Poet
My father told me of a man whose words flowed like the Thames. He was born in the wrong era he said. He belonged with the libertines and thanes. A gentle man of sweet nature, he stumbled up upon. Me and my father as we where walking along. "Oh sweet fair one" he cried, looking down into my eyes. !I shall be gone soon enough and my lifeline is thin!. I recall him now reeking of gin. "Show the world your words, pierce hearts with a verse." "Decadence, squalor and beauty are not but a simple curse, so I shall lie here in my most desitute hour, so lay beside me and look up at that concrete tower." "That you and your father call home, oh frightfully dire...The rest he said was but a slur, so I helped him alongand bid him goodnight. And slept on the pavement where we all once where.

She
Beautiful. I fell in love with a stare. As she smiled at me in the hall. The males in the rooms seemed not to care. Take me away little pixie of light. Or maybe we shall dance away the night? Take me to London for ice cream, and watch our clothes bulge at the seams. Take me to a garden that nobody knows. Where poppys, lilys and hyacinth grow. We shall twirl to French classical and fall asleep in the day. And for you my darling this is all I needed to say. I adore you.

Feedback and comments are always welcome :)

Scandalous!

2009-02-20T07:31:00.000-08:00

Russell my dears was an absolute scream! Just fantastically decadent, awfully filthy and stupidly funny, I was crying with laughter for the whole set. Of course I turned from a composed 19 year old student dressed in a pencil skirt trying to look mature to a giggling, blushing girl fan as soon as I saw those spindly legs in tight jeans come on stage. But that just cannot be helped. ;) To open him, Russell had Mr Gee who for those people that are aware was the Poet Laureate on Russell's now no longer (for a ridiculous and close minded reason due to a few peoples misguided and patriarchal sense of nobility for a bloody sitcom character) BBC radio show. He is really something else, I found my self absolutely floored by his words, a Londoner himself I found a sense of street life yet need to be middle class in his work. Not to risky but enough to send a message with poems such as 'Hoody' which tackled the Government's view on the youth and generation of today. Very, very brilliant. Russell himself was on top form, as the show started a huge projector screen came down and we witnessed the media drama over the Andrew Sachs incident, with the news readers repeating over and over Russell's name and everything around us from the music playing (The Smiths of course) reeked of overt narcissism but that's what you as the audience member would expect from such a over blown insane individual as Russell. On he walked and straight away it was sex, smirking and sauciness as you saw his eyes dart through the crowd. The usual really, using his again overt sexual powers to woo every woman in the room ( including me) the whole VMA fiasco and how Americans didn't take to his views on Bush, The Jonas Brothers and seeing a picture of Britney Spear's nether regions. The main story really was him trying to comprehend why everyone in Britain reacted that badly to the Sachs incident. Making me laugh and blush at the same time I enjoyed every second and even my best friend who was slagging him off on the walk down to the venue was laughing in her seat and smiling the whole way through and if that wasn't enough to make the night brilliant, my friend turned to me and said " You know he gives out blue wristbands to judge which girl he wants a threesome with don't you?" This of course not being true (Russell just stated "just wait by the door"on stage) I still just answered, 'amazing'. :) x

It's a Thursday but you wouldn't know it by looking.

2009-02-19T06:56:00.000-08:00

I've contemplated having a personal blog for some time now, I have a fear of rejection even if it is within my own thoughts and feelings. I must say that every time I venture out into the social group that inhabits Plymouth town I always come back with a feeling of disgust for the general public. Maybe that's just a cynical outlook but sometimes the glammed up 'lovelies' of the bars and clubs have the equivalent of a chromosome between them, crying about men, chocolate, having fat legs and make up. Now don't get me wrong ladies and gent's I'm usually guilty in having a sniffle in the toilets about some wretched and stupid thing after drinking to much Tanqueray but when it comes to really unnecessary crying and screaming I have to have a say about it. Here's one lass trying desperately to get a free drink from the barman, pushing into me at the same time while all I'm trying my hardest to do is have a dance too The Smiths. Apart from that setback I had a lovely evening, we took J out for her first night in Plymouth since turning 18 a few days back. Her first drink bought was a Flirtini in the student cocktail bar. Amazing. On with the drinks then...my love for Jagermeister and gin shall be the death of me one day I swear. As we trotted back to mine, the rest of the group decided they would go to the rock club down Union street...I decided against it and went home to curl up with toast and tea. Well, when I say curl I truly mean collapse on account of my drunken nature. Thank the good Lord for my comfortable pixie boots.

At 5am I got a call and found out the kids where outside and where awfully cold...I stumbled out of bed with not much on and let them in and abruptly collapsed a second time on my gorgeous bed while they made a bed up on the floor. I'm awful really. Woke up this morning to find them gone but three rolled cigarettes on my desk and a smiley face note. Lovely. That is a way I wish to rise everyday. :)

I've Russell Brand tonight, I'm awfully excited. Not literally of course filthy things (although it would be graciously accepted) I'm seeing him live with a bunch of friends. It's sort of spilt really, half of the group adore him and the rest hate him. It should make for some interesting social habits. I'm thinking Lycra one piece and a pretty skirt, gold accessories and killer shoes. Not that I'm trying to impress anyone of course ;) I shall keep you updated dears. In the words of Le Brand Hare Krishna! x