*))
~teh attention just encourages 'er.~
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"I fell downstairs again, scaripng my knees this time. the pain was stingy and numbing, and it seemes as if i could barely make a move without a twist of the same aching feeling running up and down my body. and when i walked, i walked slowly, like a stupid child or a rag puppet on a string. and the smell...i could not get rid of that horrid smell. and even though i had bathed three times the prior morning, the smell would not go away. it was obnoxious, like bee stuck to a puddle of honey, only the bee would eventually give up. but that smell...it did not seem to go away nor did it ever seem that it would go away. i bathed twice this time, brushing my bare skin until it was bloody red and there was pieces of my skin and dried blood under my finger nails. but, it was on my skin already. and it would not be any better. the truth was, for now i could see it.... my body was decaying. i lost a movement in my left arm once this hour, but it had twitched and raggeled until i could feel it again. and as i was brushing my hair, the long black fringes feel like a spider web onto my hand. i dropped the hair brush and scurried upstairs. i was losig my hair. soon it began to show on my face that i am now not among the living. but nor am i dead. the widow Mannequinn had given me a knife used to open letters with, with a narrow blade. and thus the blade i had to carve my own heart out and lay it softly in a jar of liquid and dirt, upon which, the still surface, there floated a dead fly. hours to come. i looked at the widow Mannequinn for a long time that day. and it seemed that, no matter how hard i tried to disobey my thoughts, whilst looking upon my refection, i noticed that the widow, just as i myself, has the eyes of a dead man. a corpse, a kadavra. and i was not still and adjusted to be seen with the eyes of a dead man. little alone, my own pair of dead eyes staring right back at me in my reflection. the blade she gave me, the thin long blade, i was now staring at my dead eyes once more, looking at the glassy surface the blade had, shimmering a silvery light. she repeated herself, i remember. i was to carve my own heart out. push the knife inside of me and take my own heart into my hand. i would not feel anything, not to worry, she said. but, with my dead heart, the same feeling of guilt that cradeled me to sleep at nights when i was still alive, was burried deep inside. and i could not get rid of it. it ate me like the maggots eat me. i said i would not do it, i would not bid her the request, it seemed appauling and a ghoul of an offer. she stated the facts, she granted me a new life, she granted me a chance to retaliate for what He did to me, and she gave me a roof to hide underneath. she kept eyes away from me. and true, i did not complain, i endured into the life as the Chemical Maiden, alone and thirsty for avengance. as she spoke those words into my ear, as she whispered the sweetest lullaby, with her poise and her mallice dead eyes, i took the knife unwillingly, and stabbed myself in the chest. i heard my chest crackle before my blade, my ribs seemed to bow before it like the humble servants. only my heart, staring at the widow fromout it's dark cradle in my chest, felt a need to beat again. with the blood, came out the maggots drowning in it, feasting upon it like it were the sweetest vine one had ever tasted. my heart ached, for what seemed would be the last time. never to be broken again. "lay it in my hands, Evangeline." the widow Mannequinn spoke, but all i could hear was an echo from my heart, it screamed out the softest tune i played in my head, it sang to me like a carousel i once had in my private chambers, it sang out the tune of something new. i looked at it, grabbed it with my right hand, letting the knife fall through my fingers and with a clinger, it fell down on the ground, make little sways in blood. i held my heart in my right hand, the bitter red blood dripping down my fingers like water. my blood was darker then the blood of the living, it was rotten and it smelt like a bad fermented cherry. sweet, but bitter. my heart looked at me with its glassy crimson surface, and i laid it slowly into the widow's skeleton hands. never to be broken again."  the chemical maiden by marlett e. hunt. |
- 20:29 - ~feels like tragedy~ (8) - ~kiss in the shape of a bullet...~
Dnevnik.hr |
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burlesque queen
 tim burton, danny elfman, jhonen vasquez, candy canes, candy in general [not to worry. mommy's a dentist. zomg. just like...WONKA *gasp*], spiral staircases, secret rooms filled with candy [which, one day i'll surprise my kids with], daggers, crossbows, automatic crossbows, automatic full-lenght crossbows, automatic full-lenght triple re-charging silver crossbows, automatic...[well, you get my point], silver in general [gold is evil], guinea pigs, crows, ravens, frogs [green ones especially], corsets, leather corsets which have nothing to do with bondage of any kind, steel armour, non-romantic realistic poetry, romantic-yet-not-so-sappy poetry, Edgar, plain black tophats, gloves of any kind, black fingerless gloves, fishnet gloves, arm warmers, long discussions about the final season of *oz*, tom fontana, black-n-white motives, colorless photographs, frayed paper, pale skin, pierced lips, them big packet pringles, teh cinema, butter flavoured popcorn, long matrix themed o'reily brother's leather coats, vampires, ghost stories, amy lynn lee, danny elfman's music, fluffy pillows, fireplaces, untouched snow, neck ties, stories, absinthe, opium, inspector abberline, edmund blackadder, narrators in stories, side notes in books, old books, 16th century medicine, curvy wings, green eyes, gonagall edmund hewitt & acker wood, thinking about the future as a famous writer, ireland, the sound of crickets[although they scare the crap out of me], my pretty little former-green-now-stripey-black-n-red room, colorful allstars, army boots, masks, canes, long black capes, pirates, silence, music, dark fantasy movies, hanz zimmer, midnight, the full moon, long trees in a forest, hillocks covered with snow, spooky willow trees, pumpkins, mistery, shadows, black and white combinations, thin wrists, bracelets, piercings, emo, narrow stone alleys and streets, unknown poets, unmarked graves, tombstones, elegant pose, mirrors, wooden stakes, cute guys like dorian gray with oh-so-nasty secrets they reveal for-your-ears-only once/before you kiss him, snarky guys, bad boys gone good at the end of the movie, credit rolls, mistakes during the filming, laughter, irish accent, rooftop bedrooms, big beds, wedding gowns... 
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