Have you ever seen a human heart?

It looks like a fist covered in blood

Do you need LSD to write like that he asked

When dreams become a boring pause from the insanity that is real life (Big Brother, Jersey Shore, the real housewives..) drugs seem to be the last thing a girl would need. But then again, I've never really thought in terms of "need and should", on the contrary to be frank.

Lets be frank, lets talk about truth.

I never belonged anywhere. I finished first every single time. I got bored. I started doing things I knew I wasn't capable of, just to get my floating feet back on the ground. I applied for jobs which no boss in his right mind would give me, but they all did. I started viewing life as a game of which the rules where specific and clear, the instructions gave away all secrets. I started something I couldn't finish. Then I did.

And now, I just want you to pick me, chose me, love me.

Caligula made his horse senator. Clay wanted Rain.

Some choices aren't logical, but they (much like LSD) take you for a hell of a ride.

No one sleeps when Im awake

SHE

I asked her to tell me how she ended up in that alley, with ripped stockings and a need for stesolid and love. I asked her to tell me everything.

She didn't, but she showed me her ribs. Covered with little blue spots, and said

" This used to be the only thing I could feel"

Childhood

Took mothers journal to bed last night. I now know every word, can recite every page from memory. Yet somehow there's clues yet to be discovered. There are emotions, thoughts well hidden, that I need to find.

Her father wants to go visit Louis for a week, he's sick again and Frank wants to be there for him. Why Belle should come is a mystery to me, she's a child and wont make Louis any favors by running around and being in his way. They're leaving tomorrow, and I can't decide weather or not I'm glad to get rid of them for a while. Frank has always been a better lover for a distance.

I remember me running around Louis house, his boyfriend patiently reading to me at night while Frank and L sat in the library drinking and speaking in vowels.

What I long thought was Louis last words haven't left me yet, they're like a tattoo in my soul.

( You have to remember Belle my dear, that we are nothing but animals. Animals. No matter how many glasses of wine we drink on pure routine )

INJECT ME

Last night, woke up from a dizzy haze where dreams met hopes and my mother walked the endless hallways with high heels and made clicking sounds. She doesn't belong in my dreams, but neither does rainbows. When guardian angels let me down, I tend to turn to my demons.

She came after nightfall, scars and bruises over her thin arms.

- What happend, dear? I didn't do that, did I? I say, barely covering up my worry

- Nothing, nothing happend.

We sat on the floor, exchanged vows and body fluids, when she suddenly opened her bag and pulled out a needle. Just like Louis used to do. Two shots of Stesolid, three gulps of champagne.

- I love you, you know that right?

- Belle.. Don't go there.

Then we exchanged blood, connected by diseases.

Black eyes. cocaine skin. She is five years old, and Im her mother- in so many ways.

I provide, she injects.

A funeral

I'm on my knees

He said: Belle, stop cutting my wrists

I said: Mine are already trashed

I tried to come back, tried to swim up for air but kept falling down. I thought about you day and night, but couldn't find the words. Went to LA and back, with less words for each air mile.

But I do find myself carrying on conversations with you even though I can't seem to write anything down. I tell you everything, but the words doesn't travel well.

But I know one thing. My wrists can't take anymore, and neither can his. So, can we pick up from where we left off? Can you love me again?

Nothing new

I'll come back soon, lovers