My skin is itching, and it's keeping me awake.

I drag sharp nails across my chest, scratch my back until it bleeds, rub some supposed miracle cream all over but nothing seems to help. Is this what it comes down to?

I've been off the painkillers for three days now. First day was effortless.

He is on his way, in a cab as we speak. Father figure Frank is slowly moving through the night.

My sheets are stained with dark red spots. They smell like urine. Ive never longed for anyone, but if I were to start, I'd pick him and I'd pick now.

I feel like somethings alive inside of me, like my skin is trying to tell me something. In the mirror a horrid vision meets my eyes. I've scratched for hours, and now my back has the letter F in blood written over it. He will think I did this on purpose.

He's coming

I don't remember, A. I don't know who you are. Im sorry (Oh, I wish I was)

Father figure Frank called last night. I was dizzy from banging my head against the wall. There's no more T in my drawers. I need a doctor as liberal as my father figure. I need a pill as strong as she was. The girl from the alley. Let's call her Marla.

- Whats shakin, kid?

- How's LA, Franky?

We never really talk. We just exchange questions. None of us have any answers. We never had.

He's coming to London soon, something about Vouge, something about love.

- How soon is soon? Like, today?

- Like.. tomorrow kid. Clean up, get sober, kick out the lover you're hiding.

Riots and cake

They tried to burn down my city, you know. Where was I? Inside eating cake. Safe between thick concrete walls. Ive never really participated in anything, so the thought of starting then wasn't really.. well, thought.

But during all of the chaos, all of the mayhem that was caused, I couldn't help but to think of a man who wanted this to happen a long time a go. Somewhere far away, Tyler Durden sat half naked, with a cigaret between his lips and with the biggest smirk.

In so many ways, I wish I had a little bit of him in me. But Im just as exciting as the narrator. Just as empty.

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