Fuck-me Pumps

There is simply
A boy
And a girl

Too young to reason
Too old to play such fools

Too foolish to ignore the momentary pleasure
The pleasure too momentary to last

So I begin to dread your presence
Yet I still seek your voice

I cannot ignore your words; your silence
even as I studiously ignore the words floating around me

That I hear from your lovely young mouth
The mouth that was briefly such good friends with mine

The mouth that showered me with the attention my nature craves

Even as my face fades from your mind

If you even ever saw my face
As if I saw yours; as if you were worthy of a name

But if you aren't worthy of a name, then how I can not forget your face?



 

You, my dear, are a poor substitute for the real thing. With your dirty hair and dirty hands, I guessed you'd just have to do for a while. Who know I'd be the one scorned, subsisting on a diet of theatrics and fear? Who knew I'd be preparing to expel the consequences of our shameless actions, should they ever come to fruition? Who knew the sight of you would drive my mind to wishes, wishes that I wouldn't want to come true? Just one more night of forgetting, how pleasant would that be? The object of my affectations is not a true object of my affections; you're simply the self-esteem I lack on a pedestal. In human form, with the body of a young God.

XOXO,

C

Since I've had little to do lately, I've found a few sites I love!

www.wwujd.com

www.wwjjd.com (these are two different sites)

www.blackpeopleloveus.com 

www.lovetest.com 

www.chucknorrisfacts.com 

www.adultfriendfinder.com (I found this one with Brandon --- not at work! I can't do anything on my work computer)

www.hanson.net (it plays Penny and Me!)
`

Check 'em out!

Oh, and also:

"... write that I need a letter from Kate!!"

So do that, Kate.

Hi,
This is actually Emily writing... but Crystal asked that I post her address, so all you LJ fools can send her letters.

Private Smith
E. Co. 2/60th inf. regt.
11000 Dixie Road
Fort Jackson, SC
29207-6100

There it is. Apologies in advance if I screwed it up, it's a pretty confusing address (especially when written in Crystal's bubbly cursive...). So make her day, write a letter.

I've decided that my journal should be friends-only. So each post is locked that way, but I'm pretty easy going, so if you comment, I'll add you. I've left a few September and October things unlocked, I don't really know why. So, here you have it.
Love,
*Crystal Rene*

For you alone.


These Are The Thoughts.
Crystal Smith
Published in Resurgam under Anonymous

How? we were talking, watching, waiting. it's true. i know. i was there. and now? You're... my mind is on the dialogue of this nameless one-star film. i feel filled, complete. completely alone. though it is wonderful, it isn't the fabric from which i wove fantasies of you. do you know your mother reminds me of the frightening faded movie queen in Sunset Boulevard? i am unconsciously dancing to this strange and haunting rhythm we are beating out, and i notice your walls are yellowed --- i feel as ancient and decrepit as they appear. the sound of your heavy breathing causes the phrase "aspirating like an asthmatic" to come to mind, and i know i'll recreate this later on paper. i am two separate entities, one thinking, one feeling. but i question, will you be the disciple to deny me three times? will you label me a Jezebel, as others do? my body is sweaty, my mind confused. some minutes, some ticking seconds when you arch and i scream. it is a thing of melancholy beauty, this pent-up frustration released. i am shocked, and i taste my blood, which is pooling on my tongue. i remember the words of an hours past..."i don't really know what i'm doing"...lies must be your truth? you've excused yourself to your pristine bathroom. i feel crazy psychic. i can see the next few hours. by the time you return,. i'll be gone, like a whisper of a fantastical dream. only my scent and my blood will remain. i will pull on my blue shirt, my flowered skirt. i will dispose of that which mocks ME. i will slink past the closed door, and i will stop and listen to you washing your hands clean. i will feel the need to be silent, as though in a cathedral. i will walk home, not thinking, smoking copious cancer, and i will collapse on my bed in my soft yellow prison. i will cry. thinking how cowardly i am that i can do this will you and not tell you. i will have raped my own soul. it will be this much time later when i will be able to speak, to say what i always want you to know, and only then will my burden be lifted.

That one I wrote just for you. Mon amour. *Crystal Renee*

jakepirkkanen: once you go jake you don't go back.
Right.

Orange madonna
weeping confused blood
dance lightly
away from an altar
depicted martyr
Metatron
highest choir of soul music
voice of reasoning
print me out some Luke
to tell me
who I am.