Friday, 1 February 2013

you were on fire last night...and I was breathing gasoline.

hi. have a poem:

Fill your outh with gasoline.
Light your cigarette.
Put your fishnet stockings on
Trying to forget.
The sorrys lick my body.
Cold and hard like knives.
And the mirror's breaking.
WIth our spit and that cheap glue.

Cigarettes can't kill you if you don't light them up.
Knives can't massacre when they're not sharpened.
Sorry doesn't count when it dribbles from your lips.
Beautiful and pure.
Vile and decieving.
Chapped and Insincere.
I'll put the mirror down.

One day.


Marlena's gun stockings

Stay groovy.


  1. I looooove your writing so much! and those pictures are awesome. I am having the biggest crush on David Bowie (which is a weird thing to admit). And I am so looking forward to your letter! I am so happy that you liked my one and I am really really tired and not in the mood for english now. ABER TAUSEND DANK!


  2. Your poem is beautiful, Carla! I love it!

  3. This is so great. :D The whole part about how cigarettes can't hurt you unless you light them totally reminded me of The Fault in Our Stars! :)

  4. Great poem! I love the pictures, too! -Britney