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____white_trash's Journal
Created on 2005-06-23 15:16:28 (#7523134), last updated 2005-07-18
4 comments received, 9 comments posted
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Basic Info| Name: | ____white_trash |
|---|---|
| Website: | http://www.yahoo.com |
BioDisclaimer: Daniela “Cunt” Star is too real for nonfiction, so therefore everything you hear here must be true
It almost hurts to be too beautiful for heaven, but I can't frown as much as I can't smile so we'll have to say that such feelings are below royalty like me. [our]Father couldn't stand to look at my porcelain fucking skin and the angels were screaming war so he threw me to earth in fresh dead seal coats, soft and warm with the blood on the inside to keep my cheeks a rosy blush.
[notso]sorry, but I look better than all of his androgynous angels[whomodelforcalvinkleinsparetime] with my skirt as the only shield to hide my cold dead doll[scouldneverbesoperfect] eyes
They stopped giving me [badboy]bodyguards because every one couldn't help but fuck me and plastic mannequins can't say no when the college boys drill holes in them for fun. My hair only stays so perfect from all the Cristal bigblackdick rappers pour in it at all the wet pussy contests I get dragged to
because niggers can't understand irony and a girl named CUNT is fair game.
Maybe if you all stopped looking like fat fucking cows carved into my fucking image you could please vanity as much as me, but I doubt it. Flattery isn't seeing hungry bovine eyes and cud chewing mouths full of braces eating up my every fucking word and making a dictionary out of it. Because[nonowait can they take it?], you aren't in on it and you don't know what it means and you can't use it right but the world needs cheshires to make the Beautiful's red carpet of fanboys lie flat, so keep at it. Not like we couldn't tell what you were to begin with. You have to actually be attractive to pretend to laugh we me. Pretend because I can't [notwon't], and all you're hearing is the echo of the ability that I gave up for this.
This that is perfect. This that is beautiful. This that is everything you wish you were and this that is the strength to go through with everything to get it. You can stand and scream like the other so called saints about my flaws, but fact is that you wish while I AM.
I am the ONLY star of Hollywood that the paparazzi has an emergency speed dial number for, simply so that they can band together to fight through MY fans to get my picture. Call me Auntie Moses, because when I step out my front door the red sea of screaming YOU seem to greet me daily and they've set up reserved parking across the street to camp out at my doorstep. I don't even need to go to Japan to be surrounded by yellow skin and eyes too slanted to see sun. Walking down the street becomes a gauntlet as little Asian schoolgirls do a woodwork popout. After all, it's called J*pop for a reason.
Runways are the same as rape are the same as photo shoots while you stick those fingers so deep down my [godhelpmeit'sthroatisn'tit?] and pry open those lips for a smile you never built me for. Flickers from cameras sum up to some memories and every pose has to be a sick joke but I'll do it because even with skinned knees to a linoleum floor among dopefeind whores:
I still.
look better.
than.
you.
Whether it’s in a Louis Vuitton body bag or a strapless dress, I’m Princess Fame with the slashed wrists and 10 inch high heels.
Tomorrow I'll be wearing your skin to perfect it, today I'm making god out of left overs because I'm the only one that can. When you blow out your birthday candles, wish that you were [me]
Every breath I take is five thousand hits and life is about to overload from the crowds that are swarming to see me. Everyday Jchrist is sounding more like Jcunt is sounding more like Jstar is turning into me [andwecallitsiblingrivalry]. Hang me up on a crusifix and suck me off long past the ressurection, because daddygod favored me enough to take the capitals from his name in my presence.
Because nothing.
Can.
Compare.
Everything is monotone like my dead fucking eyes and I'll say "I'm the only Miss America. I'm what your mother was supposed to be. I'm perfect
It almost hurts to be too beautiful for heaven, but I can't frown as much as I can't smile so we'll have to say that such feelings are below royalty like me. [our]Father couldn't stand to look at my porcelain fucking skin and the angels were screaming war so he threw me to earth in fresh dead seal coats, soft and warm with the blood on the inside to keep my cheeks a rosy blush.
[notso]sorry, but I look better than all of his androgynous angels[whomodelforcalvinkleinsparetime] with my skirt as the only shield to hide my cold dead doll[scouldneverbesoperfect] eyes
They stopped giving me [badboy]bodyguards because every one couldn't help but fuck me and plastic mannequins can't say no when the college boys drill holes in them for fun. My hair only stays so perfect from all the Cristal bigblackdick rappers pour in it at all the wet pussy contests I get dragged to
because niggers can't understand irony and a girl named CUNT is fair game.
Maybe if you all stopped looking like fat fucking cows carved into my fucking image you could please vanity as much as me, but I doubt it. Flattery isn't seeing hungry bovine eyes and cud chewing mouths full of braces eating up my every fucking word and making a dictionary out of it. Because[nonowait can they take it?], you aren't in on it and you don't know what it means and you can't use it right but the world needs cheshires to make the Beautiful's red carpet of fanboys lie flat, so keep at it. Not like we couldn't tell what you were to begin with. You have to actually be attractive to pretend to laugh we me. Pretend because I can't [notwon't], and all you're hearing is the echo of the ability that I gave up for this.
This that is perfect. This that is beautiful. This that is everything you wish you were and this that is the strength to go through with everything to get it. You can stand and scream like the other so called saints about my flaws, but fact is that you wish while I AM.
I am the ONLY star of Hollywood that the paparazzi has an emergency speed dial number for, simply so that they can band together to fight through MY fans to get my picture. Call me Auntie Moses, because when I step out my front door the red sea of screaming YOU seem to greet me daily and they've set up reserved parking across the street to camp out at my doorstep. I don't even need to go to Japan to be surrounded by yellow skin and eyes too slanted to see sun. Walking down the street becomes a gauntlet as little Asian schoolgirls do a woodwork popout. After all, it's called J*pop for a reason.
Runways are the same as rape are the same as photo shoots while you stick those fingers so deep down my [godhelpmeit'sthroatisn'tit?] and pry open those lips for a smile you never built me for. Flickers from cameras sum up to some memories and every pose has to be a sick joke but I'll do it because even with skinned knees to a linoleum floor among dopefeind whores:
I still.
look better.
than.
you.
Whether it’s in a Louis Vuitton body bag or a strapless dress, I’m Princess Fame with the slashed wrists and 10 inch high heels.
Tomorrow I'll be wearing your skin to perfect it, today I'm making god out of left overs because I'm the only one that can. When you blow out your birthday candles, wish that you were [me]
Every breath I take is five thousand hits and life is about to overload from the crowds that are swarming to see me. Everyday Jchrist is sounding more like Jcunt is sounding more like Jstar is turning into me [andwecallitsiblingrivalry]. Hang me up on a crusifix and suck me off long past the ressurection, because daddygod favored me enough to take the capitals from his name in my presence.
Because nothing.
Can.
Compare.
Everything is monotone like my dead fucking eyes and I'll say "I'm the only Miss America. I'm what your mother was supposed to be. I'm perfect
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