I want to slit your throat and fuck the wound.
I want to slit your throat and fuck the wound.
I got my second tattoo last week. It's on my left forearm, and it's a snake and a skull...(...any guesses yet?)...yes, my friends, it is...(oh come on, I thought everyone had read these books by now...)...
Yeah, so okay, I'm an official follower of the gorgeously sexy Tom Riddle. (Power is a strong aphrodisiac. Dark hair and smouldering eyes don't hurt either...)
Although that's not why I got it. (Well...) I got it for seriously complex reasons that hover in my inner being. (Say what?) Maybe someday I'll explain it. But right now I'm satisfied that I have a Dark Mark on my forearm for all to see.
It hurt more than I remember it hurting. Although the girl that did it (a girl from work) is still an apprentice (I was her ninth victim) so it could be she just pressed a little too hard. As I put it to my sister, a tattoo is basically taking a needle and cutting lines into your skin so deep it makes you bleed and then filling the wound with ink. Sexy, huh? As an ex-cutter/hurter/mutilator I figured I could deal with it, even enjoy it. Alas the first half I was squirming (Christina can attest to that). The second half though my endorphins must have kicked in because I hardly felt a thing. It was much more enjoyable. It took about an hour for the whole thing.
I have a few more planned in my future as she has to get 60 procedures done to get her license and the good thing about it is...it's all free for me! :D
I keep hearing Green Day's new song, Working Class Hero on XM radio at work and now it's stuck in my head. It's a bloody brilliant song.
As soon as your born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still fucking peasents as far as I can see,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill,
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.
If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.
I got my second tattoo last week. It's on my left forearm, and it's a snake and a skull...(...any guesses yet?)...yes, my friends, it is...(oh come on, I thought everyone had read these books by now...)...
Yeah, so okay, I'm an official follower of the gorgeously sexy Tom Riddle. (Power is a strong aphrodisiac. Dark hair and smouldering eyes don't hurt either...)
Although that's not why I got it. (Well...) I got it for seriously complex reasons that hover in my inner being. (Say what?) Maybe someday I'll explain it. But right now I'm satisfied that I have a Dark Mark on my forearm for all to see.
It hurt more than I remember it hurting. Although the girl that did it (a girl from work) is still an apprentice (I was her ninth victim) so it could be she just pressed a little too hard. As I put it to my sister, a tattoo is basically taking a needle and cutting lines into your skin so deep it makes you bleed and then filling the wound with ink. Sexy, huh? As an ex-cutter/hurter/mutilator I figured I could deal with it, even enjoy it. Alas the first half I was squirming (Christina can attest to that). The second half though my endorphins must have kicked in because I hardly felt a thing. It was much more enjoyable. It took about an hour for the whole thing.
I have a few more planned in my future as she has to get 60 procedures done to get her license and the good thing about it is...it's all free for me! :D
I keep hearing Green Day's new song, Working Class Hero on XM radio at work and now it's stuck in my head. It's a bloody brilliant song.
As soon as your born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still fucking peasents as far as I can see,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill,
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.
If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.