dead girl

[rottrevore]

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"she smiles like a child with flowers in her hair
with blood on her hands
into the sun she stares
she feels it die
i heard her cry ..
like the scream of a butterfly."</center>


<p align=justify> enter norma, the said lunatic snow bird, a girl plagued by many an unspoken fears, raking against the insides of her delicate sanity. it seemed that by recapturing sobriety, each passing moment ate away a shred of her sense. some would protest that the femme fatale had no sense to begin with. such afflictions left her stalking around the duck ponds and street corners - screaming daisies at pedestrians and the homeless. in the dawn hours, she would spy the cancerous rays' creeping along the cities' cracks and think to herself.. "the sky scrapers look like gravestones from out here." so, this was she.. the third stooge living inside the walls of the ****eon.

<font color="#8d8c4d" size="1">[ October 11, 2006 11:27 PM: Message edited by: rottrevore ]</font>

<font color="#8d8c4d" size="1">[ April 16, 2007 10:57 AM: Message edited by: rottrevore ]</font>

[rottrevore]

Dead girl
There will never be another one that dreams like you
Dead girl
There will never be another one that screams like you

When death sleeps, it dreams of you
Delilah played the dead girl at the freak show
She smiles like a ghost
Like zombies eatin' dust in Mexico

Life dries cold beneath the dead soul lights
She asked if it would hurt
I smiled and said no
The lie ran down my chin like embryo
She smiles like a corpse
Like zombies eatin' dust in Mexico

Life dries cold beneath the dead soul lights
When death sleeps, it dreams of you

Dead girl
There will never be another one to look in your eyes
Dead girl
There will never be another one that bleeds like you

I been dryin' in a dead age
I been reekin' of the new plague
The sound of the ocean is dead
It's just the echo of the blood in your head.

[rottrevore]

<blockquote>dear wade,

the world is falling apart on this side of creation. for me, at least. i've abandoned all substance abuse in hopes of my sanity returning but it seems to have become a bit more elusive. maybe this is still your address, maybe it isn't. i live with julia and renton, who fortunately need no introduction to you. how is kansas city? hopefully you've given up train hopping long enough to still have this address. you haunted one of my dreams last night, and i woke up missing you and the flowwers you used to give me. have you forgotten about me? because i won't let you. write back if you don't want to be hunted down like a dog, okay sweetheart?

love,
norma jean</blockquote>

<center>.......................................... ..............................................</center>

<p align=justify>a frown wrinkled the lines of her mouth, as the letter came to a depressing close. her own funeral music (a tasteful selection from goldfrapp) was amplified to a ridiculously loud volume (louder than her thoughts), the violins echoing against the cold, grey walls of her room. still, her ears could not fall deaf to the noise orchestrated by the other two nutcase occupants. out of pure frustration, she'd violently shoved her papers from her bed and watched their descent. norma groaned sickly, rolling her form over to wrap herself within layers of blankets and sheets - hoping to fall dead to the world.


<p.


<font color="#8d8c4d" size="1">[ October 11, 2006 11:35 PM: Message edited by: rottrevore ]</font>

<font color="#8d8c4d" size="1">[ April 16, 2007 10:38 AM: Message edited by: rottrevore ]</font>

[rottrevore]

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<p align=justify>waves crashed along the beaches of peru, where the sunday girl hailed from. inside the lavish beach house, was our girl haphazardly strung out, in more ways than one. her exotic, expensively furnished surroundings made her cringe, as she felt perfectly at home haunting the alleys and running the plagued streets of any city. the bombarding waves teased her ears from outside, only instigating her state of slow motion shock. with her luck to blame, she made absolutely perfect timing by arriving in the city of peru on the fourth day of a binge, running on fumes.

<p align=justify>her frame, positioned awkwardly along a monstrous wicker chair, resembled a mannequin, somewhat. her naturally flawless, olive skin had faded afew shades lighter and tinted by some pink there, blue over there, and purple bruises in the strangest places. cherub cheeks were aglow in a clammy, salmon color, but beneath the canvas of skin she could feel her blood boiling and racing. all the characteristics of her current physical health screamed near death, as if she was on the verge of a death rattle. maybe the air in peru was too thick for norma, because tissues lining her throat had swelled and burned, now rubbing against eachother like sheets of sandpaper. the after effects of her meth induced insomnia had seemingly sucked her soul right out of her broken little body. the set of enlarged, almond eyes were fixated on something on another side of the room. she sort've went cross-eyed afew now and then, maybe in hopes of catching a glance of the shadows dancing in the corners of her eyes. she knew nothing was there, but as any victim of the drug, could not restrain herself from looking. but the main object of her focus (what tiny sliver of interest was left) was as locked as a dead man's stare on the papason chair 'cross the room. through the cluck fiend's eyes, the chair appeared to be swarming with blankets.. live blankets, she thought to herself. the fabrics draped along the chair may not have been moving much, in her frenzied perspective, but she was ultimately convinced that they were breathing.

<p align=justify>"laaana! these blankets in here are breathing at me and it's really starting to irritate me."

<p align=justify>so, she finally spoke and could now be considered the living dead, or something in close relation to a talking zombie. from the kitchen sounded an exhausted sigh and the sound of footsteps. another little peruvian body appeared in her line of vision, the girl's arms dripping in soap bubbles from washing dishes, and cocked defiantly at her hips. this was one of the few, the proud, the honored, able to handle norma at her very worst.

<p align=justify>"fucking christ," the girl squealed and crossed her catholic heart, "the one time of the year you come to see the family, and you come looking like you dug yourself out of a grave." her sharp tongue recoiled for only a moment, then she burst out in a hysterical round of giggles. these fits of excitement obviously ran in their bloodlines. "oh you're fucked, princess. good luck pulling this one off. dinner is at auntie's in an hour, don't forget!" leaving those words to eat at norma's already fried nerves, she scuttled back into the kitchen.

<p align=justify>norma was too weak to snap, and her energy level only allowed her to lazily flip the bird and let her consciousness slip back into its coma. her thoughts formed slowly, and in the absence of her actually remembering, she guestimated that she'd been up about four days. that wasn't so crucial, she thought, as her grip of reality slipping abit farther from her grasp and denial set in. i look fine, i just need a pair of shades. sunglasses had magical powers that made all symptoms of hangovers disappear! they'd never notice. and that was the end of her thought train, the rest crashed and burned. a gutteral groan passed through dry, chapped lips, as she began contorting to another position, at a sloth's pace. there was no turning back now, she knew that all too well. in the de'laurentiis clan, attending a family event was not an option. there was nowhere to hide, because the family would collectively track her down like a pack of gossip-thirsty bloodhounds and bring her kicking and screaming to the dinner table, then interrogate her further. while keeping tabs on the breathing blankets, her body had reached it's limit, and her brain shut her off, like a rusty machine powering down.

<p align=justify>an hour later, norma was being shaken alive by her sister, who had been screaming her name and rattling her bones for the past five minutes. slowly but surely, she came through to her rude awakening and peered at her screeching sibling.

"norma jean! don't do that again i thought you were dead!"

"do i look that damn bad, lana!? just give me some sunglasses and a shot to the head so that i may be excused from dinner!"

<p align=justify>norma wasn't what you'd call graceful, convincing, or manipulative. in fact, she was an open book and everything about the girl was extroverted. the duo arrived fashionably (suspiciously) late, lana traipsing ahead of her sluggish sister. at norma's sloth speed, her muscles, bones and skin moved mechanically, warily carrying her weight inside her aunt's home. the scene unfolded much too quickly for her attention span to properly react. she drew a blank, and found herself afew moments later standing at the end of the large table, facing the stares of all thirty family members invited. all eyes on me. like a pack of vultures, she pondered, frozen in her stance. norma snapped back, sidestepping the table to find her seat. she appeared to be teetering on the edge of drunkeness as she seated herself. it equilibrium had left her completely, there was no footing at all. for the moment, her clan was pre-occupied - saying a blessing, greeting lana. the snowbird sat deathly still, shades sitting protectively over her blood, dilated eyes. her nose and stomach curled involuntarily, in disgust. the last thing she wanted was food she wouldn't be able to taste.

"norma, my little heart, eat! you have to eat, look at all the food we have, see - we have broccoli.." her aunt began reciting the foods available and was abruptly cut off.

"i'm on a diet and i have a migraine."

"oh yeah, what kind of diet is it, norm?" a somewhat long lost cousin began to patronize her, from the far end of the table.

<p align=justify>"jenny craig." the answers she gave thus far, was whatever lie made it to her lips first, and did not pass through her brain. she shot a vicious scowl in the direction of the distant cousin, thinking to herself he was either a cop or a jealous fiend like herself. today was not the day to toy with norma, and the rat was about to push the envelope again.

<p align=justify>"whatever, you look like you're on the stemfast diet!" the prick blurted it out shamelessly, loud and clear. norma, still unmoved and seemingly unsurprised. it took the clan a record of five point two seconds to successfully inform everyone of what exactly the stemfast diet was.

<p align=justify>"norma jean! are you back on the dope again?! you are, and you have the nerve to come in here high as a kite and ready to sprout wings and fly away!" and the cacophony of gasps, and loud opinions came pouring forth, as verbal chaos ensued. norma squirmed like an earthworm dangling from a fish hook. she gave the situation about a minute to see is the storm was going to die down. naturally, the family was steadily honking and quacking at her incessantly. norma girl shoved her chair away from the table, slamming a defiant little fist on the table and stormed out, leaving her nonsensical words to cut the air like a knife.

"fuck it, y'all go take that shit to trial or something."

<font color="#8d8c4d" size="1">[ April 16, 2007 12:18 PM: Message edited by: rottrevore ]</font>