checkpoint, good sir.
Splish splash, scrub and foam. hot air, hot iron, spray and finish. studio fix it all, a heavy coat of mascara, turquoise like always. carmex carmex carmex there are clothes everywhere. the "carpet" is but a memory. Oh the memories. I have nothing to wear. Nothing at all. ugly ugly ugly. seven rolls of film. Do i really look like that? I have green eyes. really green. i dont like green, really. thats a random picture- why am i in a rocket ship? no idea, but theres cleavage, so it doesnt matter. rilo kiley reminds me of hawaii. dont know why. hawaii hawaii hawaii. I miss Dumbledore, the simple days, and a clean room. clean? lazy. nothing better to do anyway. this doesnt make sense and i dont give a damn. its not for you. its for me. who are you? noone. you are noone because you are reading this. and NOONE reads this. so by definition you are...? exactly. im brilliant. sometwhat depressed. mostly dressed and no where to go. Bob Dylan Agrees. SO perhaps as he shelters me from the storm ill wipe off my painted cheeks, unstrangle my neck of invisible beads, pop in a DVD, and make life more simple. Paint a skateboard, as though that would matter. Im no artist.
okay. thats a lie.