My life has turned into a cliché.
I like skinny legs and cupcakes.
I like macarons and the Marais…
Plaster my wall with naked skin,
And paint my man with leather strips,
Line my glitter cage with roses.
Photograph color in vintage hues,
And crave for magazines and shoes.
I dream of flowy white mist,
But wear all-black smoke.
Get my coffee at Starbucks,
And eat words the rest of the day.
Buy someone else’s old memories,
Wear studded leather and fake fur.
I like the latest indie movies.
Loop play the latest indie songs.
I like to be hurt, but not to hurt.
I like to dream, but not to sleep.
My life has turned into a cliché.
** I hope you will excuse, and perhaps understand my cvasi-poetic mood, but, as it happens, it does occur at times and it is best to just accept it and move on.
Fetishising in …
Zara Shirt
H&M Dress
Pink Wig
Love.