hollywood

heey me and bones are sorting out our joint myspace right now,
so basically if anyone wants to send me banners, pictures,art anything remoutly to do with me, hahahah, that would be swell :]
loveyouallxx


heres my new live journal entry if anyones bored and wants a read :]

title;
in the beginning there was seman.

the stereotype of pornography has thrived in my peroxide.
i was only sixteen when i first suffered silicone love.
a self manufactured sex doll, it craved to give the impression of being the most perfect of type. for others to lead from by example. cowering in its shadow.
but behind its own doors, afflicted a general term of pain,suffering, embarrassment,
and acute to excessive distress.suffocating, addictive, violent kinds of love.
it was here i learnt how to 'perform' love to my own advantage.
use the love.
i performed with all of my being. my strength, my eyes, my hands, my breasts and my pelvis. an unholy alliance with cupid.
i have feasted. and i have been feasted on. i feasted on all that a "love.a lover" has to offer. unwilling and unknowingly they submitted the strength for tomorrow.
allured into a false sense of security, a cesspool of lust in which was injected with each venomous kiss. an inferno relit by each bead of sweat.
a situation they had no control over.
they the mechanism for adjusting the operation for my device, each moment puppeteered by me for my own emotional needs.
such power comes with a price.
ive had my opinions dismissed. discharged. mouth shut. mouth full.
honey, cinnamon, sea salt. these are the flavors i recognised.the tastes i knew.
the tastes i was forced to love unyet have been so inferiorily used by.
a toy. a plaything. loved and dismissed to and of their will. broken unrepairably broken. each time, each one inside my person, ravenously claming they were the first, the last, the best. secret tears the only sign,my fingers were crossed.
this was love to me.
teenage hormones prepared me to furfil sexual desires, in return for a mouthful of tongue and temporary happiness. manufactured happiness. material at times.
there is no space for dignity within this kind of love.

i have felt passion.
heart race, hands shake, face crack.
ive bubbled and frothed. a seething vessel of womanly fluids ascape down shaking thighs. skin they were so desperate to claim as home.
ive been obsessed with.
obsessed they'd change me.
secretly glad they couldnt.

by this entry, i do not mean i have bed post notches from here to hell,
it means i have susceptiblly used ones in the past.
and i have been used back.
and i have felt lust.
and i have suffered the violence that comes with such lust.


this is to my younger teenage years.
to those i tried to love.
to those i always knew i could never love.
the ones i used,
the ones i hurt.
you are my aspirations.you have inspired me.
be appreciative, in all you have made me.
because without me there would be no you.
and without you.
id be just fine, because id have found another you anyway.