Memoirs of my boulevard

Another day of life by the drop. I pray to Lord, help me stop. I awake in pain, feeling shame. Knowing soon again I'll play the game. For the brief second with my self. Before I walk over to that shelf. I stop and think of all the things I do. And the people I hurt while drinking booze. I grip the bottle o' so tight. I won't let go until the night. All these thoughts rush through my head. Loves and pride and things I once said. I know it's from the former me. The one that can no longer be. It hits me hard, I cannot cope. So drink until I start to choke.. Day to day, I live like this. High to high and kiss to kiss. I hope one day, the drunk will let me out. And never again will I drink and shout. Until that time I'll drown and hate. I just hope that's not my final fate...

I need to be touched tonight.. I need to feel my blood quicken once more.. I want to feel my pulse grow fast And the skin of another To taste the lips of another.. To feel arms surround me once more.. The soft gothic melodies swim in my head As I hear them this want grows stronger.. Too relaxed to care what is wrong with the world So dead inside nothing can touch To feel warm skin again To let my body give way to what is called sin My skin screams to be touched Scratched, tormented This horrible craving deep with in me That of flesh and fantasy My mounting pleasure can not be hidden As I need to feel it, Taste it I urn to be used, my body purely an object I need to see it in his eyes I need to feel heat deep with in me As flesh touches flesh, The taste of sweat upon the body To be bound, to be whipped, Do you know the pleasure in this pain? Penetrate me, Use me, Cut me Take your pain out with my flesh Hate me, worship me, Just let me have what I crave To feel you within me Nothing but ...

She was taught from a young age that beauty was having pale skin and a bright smile, But she wasn’t trained to see that beauty itself was somewhere in the writings of a fragile, broken heart. She was raised in a society where thin bodies were attractive and big bodies were a disgrace As if it was worse than the crime against  Jews, homosexuals, and the colors of race combined. Belief that beauty was only found in painted faces with blinding teeth was planted in her brain at such a young age that she forgot how she looked in the mirror because she was too afraid to see her own smile. She forgot to brush her teeth in the mornings because she was too afraid to ask her mommy, “Mommy, am I as pretty as the girl on the magazine?” She’s too afraid to hear her mother’s reaction, or her siblings’ reaction, hell, even her father’s reaction. “No, you’re not as pretty as her,” That’s what they would say, But she left before they could finish their sentence: “No, you’re not as pretty as her. ...