Brooke Susette™ profile picture

Brooke Susette™

Don't thank me for the add please. It gets annoying. Be orignal when you comment me.

About Me

My name is Poe
I am the Alpha and the Omega
I don't look for lovers, I look for muses.
I'd rather fall tragically short
while chasing impossible dreams,
than do anything else in this world
Destination: Big lights, big life.
You can X my page out:
It'll remove the cause,
Not the symptom.

< Everything's Got A Moral, If Only You Can Find It. > 1 Disclaimer: Safety first If you are a pretentious idiot that uses immaturity to solve things, kindly fuck off. I don't need your surreality or your drama.
Anyone who thinks they are better than me will often face their doom with an abundance of harsh realities in the form of insults.
I'm known to have a split personality. Depending on how I feel, or who I talk to, will determine which person you will encounter. Some say it's schizophrenia, I say I couldn't give a shit less.
2 Let's talk about the basicsI gesticulate when I talk, so of course I'm interesting.
I don't like to shorthand myself and I've learned to be assertive, however I am generally humble. I am immune to pompous bastards and fatally attracted to enigmatic people. I take pictures, and enjoy making stuff with my hands, especially for people who are close to me. I am straight edge and vegetarian, but it it is not an influenced desicion. I also support abortion and gay marriage.
I often wonder about the nature of people's intentions.
I've crashed and burned more times than I can count and thats loosely based on my craving for experience. I plunge instead of jump and I never look before I do either.
I am driven by music.
My art is my world to me in quite litteral. As all perception is different, it is my personal explination of such. My humors, my fetishes, my dreams, my "the world would be better as"s. Written or drawn, I attain far more eloquence than the gibbering or dettached silences that I am prone to.
I don't bother to put any extra effort into my appearance.
While my mouth can run for hours and not mean nor say a thing in a second of visual viewing of five minutes of reading, you'll catch my drift like an avalance with a meaning as plain as a white on white on white background.
I have dettachment issues. I can't pay attention for long. I have little interest in actual people, but prefer to veiw them as projects. Games. Seeing what causes this reaction and that responce. This goes for objects, situations, and moments as well. Poke it with a stick, see if it twitches.
I've been known to stare into space and forget everything around me. The world fades into the back because the TV shows in my head are always better.
I'm a vegetarian that would eat people if we weren't so polluted. Animal cruelty goes second in the list of reasons, the first being that carnivores eat god knows how much shit everyday, and seeing as I'm not into faecalphilia, it seems to be something I'd rather not put in my body [but you go have fun with that].
As you've already rolled your eyes at me, let me be clear that I don't eat salads and grains like a rabbit. My mock and faux steak and beef and chicken and fish and lobster are better than yours, but of course you wouldn't know. Because you're sheltered and trained by mass media to think I only eat leafy greens. Silly you.
3 Delve a little deeperI always like to know what people are thinking universally. My household walks around barefoot so I'm used to it. Modesty and benevolence are the greatest way to charm me. I'm extremely scared of heights but for some reason it still excites me.
I think theirs a difference between simple people with substance and verbose pretentious idiots that like the sound of their voice (guess which one i don't like). I admire people who know who they are because although I think I have a pretty good idea, I believe I don't yet.
I usually assume that I am always right and I often have a problem with being proven wrong. Yet, I will still admit I am wrong to avoid making a fool out of myself. I've grown into a stubborn man with the gift of giving advice from a universal level, which would probably make me a wonderful psychologist. The feeling of confusion is something I often encounter, which makes everyday a challenge to find "myself". I have a few dependable friends who mean the world to me and a boyfriend who I greatly admire, so any offers will be respectfully declined.
Relaxation and energy is key for a life like mine. During my years of survival, I have learned to expect the unexpected and to make no assumptions of anything. I am driven, competitive, intuitive, and easily disappointed. I have acquired a bad habit known as procrastination.
4 Gain a little insightI find amusement in performing the wallflower role. A silent-but-deadly approach, I like to think I've mastered with a single raised eyebrow.
Eclectic and eccentric, undeniable self-proclaimed dork. A realistic idealist. Witty and sharp, I carefully make impressions and judgements through observation.
I have a tendency to think before I speak, and an affinity to hiding who I truly am until I know I can trust someone.
Emotional, tempermental and highly unpredictable. I'm a moody one, I wear my heart on my sleeve like a bruise or black eye. I'm a walking contradiction at times. Feisty to the core, I'll tear you a new asshole if you get on my nerves.
My quirky and childish antics include [but not limited to]: inevitably attempting to use my fist as my microphone,while serenading you via passenger seat, amusing you with the soundtrack of my life and of course biting your arm when I don't get my way.
To sum me up is a task deemed impossible. An unequal proportional ball full of sass, romantic tendencies, sarcasm, intelligence, and a bit of bitterness held against this world that I was born to lose in, but a hint of stubborness that I refuse to be held down, and live to win from.
5 Meet the alter egoPlease note: My disturbing attributes may be blamed on a past of which I oh so gracefully sculpted with bad intentions, and under-developed plans.
I'm sorry: I don't like you.
And I'm GLAD I'm nothing like you
My own entourage, I take care of myself.
If you want to get to know me, ask everybody that's never SPOKEN to me.
I ALWAYS pay attention. I'm truly listening and loving every second of conversation when I'm staring at my nails wondering what went wrong.
If you want to say I'm beautiful don't be upset when I smile politely. It's only because I want to die inside, it'll pass so we can get RIGHT BACK onto the topic of which celebrity made a faux-pas yesterday.
Where was I? Sorry...I've forgotten your name already. But it doesn't matter anyway; you're all the same
If Myspace was a creative writing class, most of you would fail.
Everyone on this site is supposedly fake except the rarest of few. You're all intent on the idea that what you see on this screen is some farce or wall in the name of selfpopularity, that it's an impossibility for any of this to be realistic. For someone to feel such as stated. For their thread to follow their tongue. Because you prefer the fucked up but no one could be, correct?
I always liked you better that way.
So just stop telling your friends about me, because they think you are the ONLY fucking moron on myspace if you like me. Just stop thinking I'm cool because look at obvious majority opinion and you WILL REALIZE your ideals are very foolish. Just stop whoring my page, because I'd rather not 5000 unknowns on my friend's list so they can spam up my fucking bulletins until I want to delete everyone one of you cheshire assholes. Just stop spreading the word, because it's only dragging YOU down, and you can't handle it well down here. So just stop mentioning my name to anyone.
I like being the absolute anonymous that no one knows about.
Because unlike every other bitch on this website, I prefer being under the floor with the worms while you all crash around in the ten inch stilletos you don't need, tripping all over one another's bullshit that drags as far behind you as your fake faces. I like being solitary and refined. I like people passing over me because I'm unknown. Unlike all the angstmonger kiddie-hoppers on myspace, I mean it when i say I DO NOT LIKE PEOPLE and that i am ONLY HERE TO SCREAM MY OPINIONS and I could really GIVE A SHIT LESS IF IT MATTERS TO YOU.
So leave me the fuck alone dear Vanities. I'm ANTIBEAUTIFUL and I will remain and retain as such no matter the company that tries to keep me. I'm not losing my eyesopticals to your sick twist, and your lies are as blatant as every vanityfix I throw on every cheshire and supposed self proclaimed cunt out there.
Because smiles make you wrinkle, and while the rest of the world would prefer to be smooth plastic features, I'd rather look upon the commercial propaganda and vomit inside.
Vanity is a lie, hiding decaying skin behind layers and layers of makeup, photoshoping a face with a brush, blush, and pencil. I am what stands for the destruction of the lie. The knowladge that our marked skin and chipped teeth are more real than the mask billions put on everyday.
I WILL march my own one fucking subhuman army and I WILL carry it on alone and I WILL sneer at your fucking help if you're a god damn mindless git and I WILL never expect any of you fucking cheshires to understand boo out of my god damn motherfucking mouth because be it idiot city mantra or pure god enlightenment i am the one and only Christopher Poe and all else is smoketone opaque to my crystal.
You must be the only fool here.
It must be comforting to consider it fucked up, it must be less akward to consider anything as such abnormal. Your morals are abstract, no one bears the same consideration to what is right that you do. The word "harm" is not relative, because we all are harmful to someone somehow. Your breaking the heart of your first lover can cause the same damage as the rape of a child, depending on the person's temperment and how true the words are [andhowwilling].
I am what you need, aka the impossible dose
They choose you because you're easy to come by and a quick high. They choose you in larger masses because you're safer and relenting and can be taken in larger doses. They choose you because you're easy on the mind and none too thick in solution. They choose you because you're closer to home and not much different than all the rest of them. They choose you because you're cheap.
For all those reason, they [don't] choose me. For all those reasons, they hear my god damn name and they turn tail. Talk in whispers. Mention it in cupped hands and warn one another "No seriously, don't fuck with that".
They [don't] choose me because I am without restraint and I break sound barriers. They [don't] choose me because I’m easy to find but hard to obtain. They [don't] choose me because I’m more than a minor addiction and have a tenyearshelflife of an aftertaste. They [don't] choose me because I’m incurable once inflicted. They [don't] choose me because I’m impossible to turn your back on, They [don't] choose me because everything else is a five cent high afterwards. Filler. Echo. Copy. Lifted. Diluted.
A waste.
They [don't] choose me because even when you've got me under thumb I’m willing to bring the hammer down on your hand and my head just to get free. They [don't] choose me because rumor has it I’ve driven men mad, and rumor is everything. They [don't] choose me because my circles of speech are logical in how they skip and jump, they [don't] choose me because like a bad trip I’m pathless even when you saw it coming. They [don't] choose me because they're afraid, and when they do they're never the same.
They [don't] choose me, and when they do they don't talk about it. Can't talk about it. They [don't] choose me, but when they do it's the nervosa of shakes that whisper out their mouths on the subject. They [don't] choose me, but when they do they know how special and few they are.
So let them come and let them choose you, because they can't handle me.
I can't smile for the pictures because there's nothing left in my mouth. Teeth falling to bits to leave me a gas grill drip, can't move because he doesn't say to while his metal fingers make better of my molars. Take a knife and drag it over your breaking teeth, dig it up under the gum and scrapescrapescrape away [because] there’s my orchestra playing my blues. the only harmony I’ve got is a chatter in my ear that pours well over the jaw bones that split under his weight of words.
Here's me, rubblehubble and used bits for the better boy. Mom's abortion came back to bite me in the ass, possessive repressive and planning a coup with my body for black-market dealers. I’m for sale if she gets a dime and the curse through the teeth is "gilly" for the fingers that come climbing up and in. And even if I’ve got nothing left I’ll [still] be your everything
[notouchyj*.quotedto:Poe]
shewasalwaystreatedbetter
withsticksinsteadoffeathers
When they sent me my knight in shining armor, I buried him so deep to the ground that they'll bury him under skyscraper foundations before ever finding him. Call it envy, but I am my own white fucking horse and the first man to lend hand was better off taking to a brick fucking wall. So boys please check yourself at the door, because unless you're homosexual or lacking your pieces, you're a threat here. [mind you] not to me, but to yourself.
Because nothing threatens me. really please let's laugh about that.
So do as you fucking like, I bear no right to demand any silence from any of you. You will of your own choice, and I have no bearings to otherwise. However don't try for me. I’ll warn the fucking world and now I’ll warn you. Don't. You'll be wasting your time on something you will be completely disappointed in. And if I don't disappoint, I’ll be disappointed in you. All the children that ever tried left me sighing. Left me bored. Left me wondering where the distinction of awe disappeared to that EVERYONE else saw.
I suggest you not add me, for you will not be getting what you ask for. My mouth is random and my words are hard to follow. I do not slow down for much of anything, and I only speak for and to myself unless I point directly at you.
I am the kid on your block that never lied to you. I am the one that does not stand out nor will ever choose to. I am the one who is not out to make friends. I’m screaming to myself, and save for any warnings I give to chase you away, I could care so little if anyone listened.
People will tell you I’m a saint
[they lie]
People will tell you I’m brilliant
[they over exaggerate]
People will tell you I’m possessed
[they don't understand]
People will tell you I’m full of shit
[they're jealous]
People will tell you I broke their heart
[they wanted it]
People will tell you I changed their life
[they need to stop fucking my sevenfootstrapon]
People will tell you a lot of things
[but I’ll tell you first]
I’m loud and obnoxious, and I don't wait my turn. I can't mind my own business, and I only stick up for someone when I want to, and attack instead when asked. I’m hot and cold on a good day, and lukewarm on the bads. I’m obsessive and possessive and repressive, and it makes me repeat until you wish I were mute. I’m two sided, but the sides are the same images in the mirror. I never change my mind correctly, and they all wonder if it's even a change with how I flow it. I pick up kids that let me and throw them away to rot when I’m done, peaking in at times to remind you that I’m no longer in your life. I don't mind losing friends as much as I don't mind loss of lives because I understand this is a natural stage of growth development. I stick to evolution. I’m sarcastic when I love you, kind when I don't. I can't comfort for anyone, and I make you laugh because you're happy I’m not saying that shit about you. I’m a bitch. I’m a one way train to self destruction, and you're my strapped and sedated crew. I don't brainwash, you do it for me. I’m stupid. I’m an idiot. I’m an immature cunt who can't keep it to himself. I need to open up and share. I need to not be so touchy and a little more social. I couldn't spell if a truck of alphabet blocks hit me at speedofsound miles per hour and the plate read "FONIX".
This is me. The mask you encounter is not this, but the similar boy on the streets that will be completely unabrasive to appease you.
No.
I’m not going to bloom like a fucking flower for you and drop all.
No.
I don't expect you to understand a word or see me as anything typical.
No.
I’m not naive enough to think the words "goth" or "attention whore" are below your state of mind for me.
No.
I don't expect you to leave me the fuck alone, to erase the word enima from your minds and thinks me unimportant. I can hope, but we all hope for silly things, don't we?
I am never seen in the media.
If they made me the front page, no words would satisfy. Interviews would halt with no questions clear enough, recorders would find faulty and haywire. Televisions across the world would explode and whitesnow the moment I came on air, satellites plummet to earth rendering mass murderhomocides that left me lifting no fingers. Telephones? Down. Radio? Down. Internet?
downdowndowndowndown.
Take your twocent whores in drag and make all the pages and papers, cover to cover of every magazine. Their ability is your inability to be unfathomable. There are laws against me[st.poe], the media's unspoken taboo. You'll never see me in media.
weretoogoodforthat
Only original in indesicion.
[yeahyeahyeah] everyone steals from this profile.
[yeahyeahyeah] you've seen my pictures and words elsewhere.
THEY DON'T REALIZE what any of it means, however. A predominant amount of you that read this and send me fivehundredemails a day saying it's beautiful normally are just putting your own personal ideals into my words. Copy and pasting yourself over text from this far off entity that you'll never meet, connecting to something so many won't admit to. It's beyond my understanding, really, because it's that feeling. It's
[somethinglike]
worshipping celebs on TV and reading the bible.
[somethinglike]
cutting open your skin and fucking in your mom's bed.
[somethinglike]
giving head for love and believing the lie that they love you back.
Oh and that? That'll get ripped off too. In fact I'm sure Jeffree Star took it before I even uploaded it, seeing as he loves so suck my ohsooriginalohsocontroversial dick with half the things I write simply because I won't write for him anymore. And don't email me congratulations on saying it, I get enough complaints about him everyday. It gets tiresome.
I'm a sick fucking twist and I don't suggest humoring and/or enjoying me. Despite all my love and loyalty I like to bite heads off passers by. I have a sweet tooth for naive boys, and it's as much an issue for I as it is they.
I am a bad, bad person. I'm red alert and high risk. Your life can't be anywhere near that boring. There must be something safer you can do. If you want to alter your perception then just shoot or sniff, you'll be doing far less damage than conversing with me. Spending time with me. Because I seem to have an addictive personality and I'm surrounded by grindstone snobs that don't seem to notice nor care the effect I have on them.
This is your chance to avoid me. The jibbermouth in the corner with the dunce cap. To avoid this complete lack of bravado filled with verbality slop that's spun enough times through you until you're awed despite how low class it is. So do yourself a favor. Stop reading this. Go the fuck away.
I don't think much nor well of myself, but that's simply because I think little of anyone. The rarest of few that I enjoy the precense of I have a tendancy to come off as worshipping, and will put them on pedistals for long periods of time. Because to me they are[yes], farfar better than you.
I don't go to parties to make friends or clubs to socialize. I go to dance and to veiw. I attract others however, and often will run my mouth without realizing nor remembering it, and from there it seems word spreads that I am social. We'll be honest here:
I am not. I don't find conversing due to my need to spill verbally nor mentally nor textually as social. I'll talk a person's ear off if I feel the need, but that doesn't mean I can very well stand you. Because in all likelyhood, I can't. Socially I take up and need far too much space, and even from ten feet away you are breathing down my neck.
Finally the outside matches the in.
Justice.
This is me.
I like laying on floors and sleeping. I like it a lot. I like it more then you.
Expensive things mean NOTHING to me.
They're trash, just like you.
Designer labels are trash, just like you.
Not like me, who sleeps on the floor and doesn't care. I don't worry about who will see me next. This is just one moment where you weren't there.
Vanity lays on the floor, broken mirror murder boy.
This is me.
Cold and alone on the floor.
Black market beauty marked barbed wire smile.
My hair is no longer touchable, my face untrustable. Unreliable and incomplete.
Broken down the middle.
Hard-wood mattress, callous manufacturous: gorgeous.
I'm not real.
You're not real.
Shut up already, your hair is in your mouth and the lights are OFF. Your high heels wont matter next week and those plastic neon earrings will burn.
Just like you.
Just like me.
Robot user-friendly electro teenage meat.
That's YOU.
Motherfucking Poe, covered in truth.
That's ME.
See the difference, taste the similarities.
FOR SELFSURE ADAPTABILITY
If by the time you're done reading this you think I'm ego-centric and full of the mememe's, you clearly haven't read this very well. There's no brilliance here, no genius. Just another one screaming and kicking until the sun makes my retinas dissolve, because I'll fauxfight about much of anything.
The ego is a no-go and the "thinking better than anyone else" never called an RSVP to this noshow.

My Interests

i. Photography

ii. Acting

iii. Psychology

iv. Film

v. Music

vi. Theology

vii. Anthropology

viii. Literature

ix. Math & Science

x. Communicating

xi. Sleeping

xii. LOVE

xiii. Philosophy

xiv. Rhetoric

xv. Language

xvi. Manipulation

xvii. Intimidation

xviii. Hurting some pretty boys face

xix. Revenge

xx. Violence

xxi. Deformities

xxii. Lethal injection

I'd like to meet:

6 If you want to meet me... If you're not profound,
if you're not charismatic & charming,
if you're not interesting,
if I can't learn something from you
and you can't learn something from me,
I don't want to meet you.
However, I WOULD like to meet the sarcastic, driven, and extremely witty one's that embrace color in their life.

I'm the lucky one that got the boy of his dreams. I don't want nor need anyone else in the relationship department, and no, not a single soul can sway me on that. I suggest not even bothering to embarrass yourself in an attempt.

My boyfriend has a face like a God turned porcelain, old school victorian doll set in a culture that gawks at him. It's an issue when you need to remind your own friends that he's off limits and I'm not letting go anytime soon. The rare days he kicks and fusses about his looks don't change the fact that heads turn and men get slapped midsidewalk by their boys.

Just turning 17 and intelligent as all fucking hell to the point that I forget his age and wonder if some older man exchanged mentalities with what seems to be this young boy.

And fuck all if you find this mushy, because you're not sending me drooling by simply entering the same room as me, now are you? So stop asking. I'm taken. Comepletely. Not interested. Saying you're eclipsed by this little body of perfection is understatement extreme. Because in a fight of the world of man against him, I have no reason to even glance away. Because I am so very fucking

takenlikeabrickwallpunch3

..Felix Means The World To Me..



For FRIENDS:

I don't want to make friends with people that attempt to catch my attention by staring or glancing. I don't want to make friends with people that follow me for a few minutes and walk away. I don't want to make friends with people that sit next to me or near me and wait for me to say something. I don't want to make friends with people that keep showing up at my job in hopes some connecting moment with make miracle of itself. I don't want to make friends with people that say "I like your style/hair/hat/jacket/eyebrows" and then don't have anything else lined up. I don't want to make friends with people that talk to me out of the blue.

I want someone to walk up next to me and keep walking as if we know one another and we started together from point [a] and plan to continue to point [b]. I want someone who keeps going no matter how far I go, keeping up and not questioning or asking "where?". I want someone who just says "hey" and that ends it. I want someone who understands that silence in verbality can be golden because smalltalk is filler and neither of us cared anyway.

Because I don't care about the abbreviations or crushedtotwowords sentences, like your GED or your STD or your job as a CSR. I don't care where you live. That you did or didn't make mommy and daddy proud. That you're a rebel, that you conform, that you're a dem or a rep or an indy or who you voted for. Your political views and your social economical middleclass vs upperclass bullshit. Your five thousand patches of bands names too obscure or too easy to come up with like "Global Threat" and "Indy 5" and "No Kid's Underground" and "Antiamerican Presidency" and blahblahblahblah. The words here are never and ever. Not yet.

I want someone who can just walk. Because before you speak you know nothing of a person more than their physicalities. How they carry themselves, the look on their face, the way they step skip stumble and .stop. How they cross a street with traffic near and how they get through a crowd. If they look both ways. If they breathe through their mouth or their nose. The things you always learn later when the friend or person mattered, because by then we were past all your mememei'll listen just so I can talk. Because by then you cared. Because you were comfortable without talking.

I want that first and all the rest after. Because I don't want to know your life and it's little details until I am comfortable, not the other way around. It should always be that way.

Too bad no one does that.

I look for those that live up to my expectations. However due to the grandose hieghts that I expect people to reach, they rarely even register on my richter scale.

ALSO: Don't ask to call me. Or don't ask me to call you. Or don't expect me to say no. Because I'll say yes just like I'll approve an add: anyone gets the same responce. Yes. But I won't like it, our phone conversation. I won't sound like myself. I won't be comfortable. You won't be talking to me. You'll be talking to the drone in charge of social verbal operations.

The phone and I don't get along. It makes me sick to handle it. Touch it. I won't be calling you. Ever.

Rules of conduct upon speech.

Don't ask me how I am. How i feel. It's small talk usages to just be able to say your own peice. Even if you don't mean it like that.

Don't ask unless you measn it, and don't mean it unless you do. Don't bullshit. I don't take offence, neither should you.

Don't fucking ask.

And MOST IMPORTANTLY:

DO NOT THANK ME FOR FUCKING ADDING YOU

It's disgusting. It ruins the whole act. I didn't covet an aspect of you for you to fucking thank me. You make yourself a whore by thanking me. This priceless, minute, rare act.

Do Not Thank Me

Thank you.

Music:

i. Morrissey

ii. HIM

iii. The Smiths

iv. Beck

v. Poe

vi. The Wallflowers

vii. Dido

viii. Sarah McLachlan

ix. Angels and Airwaves

x. James Blunt

xi. Kill Hannah

xii. CKY

xiii. Marilyn Manson

xiv. Vendetta Red

xv. The Servant

Movies:

i. Donnie Darko

ii. Waking Life

iii. V for Vendetta

iv. Rocky Horror Picture Show

v. Rent

vi Powder

vii Ginger Snaps

viii Amores Perros

ix. Clerks

x. Chicago

xi. Moulin Rouge

Television:

Don't wait for a knight in shining armor,
Your saviour's reflected in the mirror.
Build a ladder if there's a wall,
Don't be afraid to slip and fall.

Books:

ALL OF CHUCK PALAHNIUK'S BOOKS :]
i. The Genealogy of Morals
ii. The Stranger
iii. The Plague
iv. The Metamorphosis
v. The Dictionary
vi. Angels & Demons
vii. The Satanic Bible
viii. The Myst Trilogy
ix. The DaVinci Code
x. The Hot Zone
xi. Ender's Game
xii. Existentialist works
xiii. The Perks of Being a Wallflower
EVERYTHING IN THIS PROFILE IS WRITTEN FOR ME BY ME UNLESS STATED OTHERWISE
Sorry if we can't all be unoriginal, but i have a mold to break.
This ungodly profile that doesn't shed any skin as much as it keeps expanding with it's complete lack of editing that I never even go back and read anymore I just pilepilepilepilepile until your harddrive someday explodes all the 2 second trash I wrote for Jstar that somehow finds it's way mutated across the internet by all the little suck me up faggots who think putting two more words of pretentious bullshit into an already sickeningly egotistical line will make it ten times more brilliant than it was last time around.
Did I say brilliant? I meant fodder.
Anyone up for phone tag?
All you little antiscenescenefucks should just quote Bret Easton Ellis for every profile you have. You would come off as so much more intelligent and original.
Really.
Go read Less Than Zero, maybe then you can xerox those paper lives onto your own fucking skin as a fresh layer of foundation and come off as slightly more interesting for .2 seconds. Because no offence to every fagemocryboi on here or every transwhatever, but Invisible Monsters and plastic surgery doesn't describe you as well as apathy, boredom, and the rape of a twelve year old.
I mean, I should stop reading all of your profiles because you all look, sound, and act the exact fucking same
But it brings the LOLs, you know? :)
The Legend of Poe
Poe: a mixture of grotesque and perfect beauty, the eyething we wanted to be and the sterile inanimate that was the fear of any mind. Monsters stayed in the closet, frozen in terror of the thought of facing him. Fear had no meaning to the body that was placed so still and heavenly on the floor.
He was the embodiment of frustration, as the pathetic parasites of humanity tried to break his seemingly impervious body with cruel words and barbed, malicous snarls. They threw about in a vortex of violence and jealousy, but he would land like a dove, thawrting their plans like a brilliant mastermind. His blank face was a portrait of nirvana; his gaze, one bred of joy and of sorrow..his eyes; brimming with sexuality as he reaped the rewards of passion. He sat still as death as wars formed around him. He lay inert and kings wept. He stared into the void while artists broke their magic brushes and cursed God for his cruelty.
He could not be broken, though he was the moment he existed. He felt no sorrow, but he was the saddest thing for not knowing the lack. He was dull like ice for he never wondered to what it was like to never be cold, idle, inhumanly empty.
They propped him up at a sunset, the most beautiful of the year, an explosion in his name to bring life to his perfect form. They hoped for him to wake to tears and understanding, They wanted to humanize what was best left alone. He sat still as he was propped overlooking the fall and watched the mushroom bloom into the sky. His glazed glass eyes surveyed the tidalwave of heat that surged through streets, lids half open due to his slightly tilted head. His porceline filled ears felt the barage of screams..The refections of the children falling danced on his eyes.
An explosion.
When the sunset ended and the night began in plumes of black soot and smoke overtaking the sky, he remained immobile. without those to move him, he sat surveying the horror without understanding to it. His hair rode so softly on the hot breeze, his face frozen as it always was of blank emotion. We as readers painted sadness onto it because it helped us to understand such a story
Poe sat for the rest of eternity, the only living entity of a world that died to bring him life. He knew not the irony or beauty. He simply sat comfortably immobile and content in his lack.
He was perfect
Beauty lies in imperfections.

Heroes:

I USED TO SLASH MYSELF UP
I LIKE TO PLAY IT TOUGH
CUTS, BRUISES, BLOOD OOZES, BONES BREAKING ROUGH
YOU GOTTA HANDLE THAT STUFF

Lovers and fighters.

BEST FRIEND:

My Blog

BLASPHEMY

It should have been 10000 B.C., that day, as the skyclad parishonersdanced their delightfully orgasmic dance around the inner circle inwhich the Priest stood, staunchly masturbating from between the f...
Posted by Christopher Poe on Mon, 23 Oct 2006 08:11:00 PST

Chapter 15

Chapter 15Thoughts of leaving this nonsense screamed through my mind as fast as Damen and I were flying across the iced asphalt. How did he think this was going to play out? The curtain would drop, t...
Posted by Christopher Poe on Sun, 22 Oct 2006 03:37:00 PST

Chapter 14

Chapter 14 I think deep down he knew it was me who called security, the chief priests of campus corridors, to haul him away. And deep down he'll know that I did exactly what he wanted. I gave him his...
Posted by Christopher Poe on Sun, 22 Oct 2006 03:36:00 PST

Chapter 13

Chapter 13Damen must have been pretty pissed off because usually the next morning after a fight I find him curled up on the couch like a sated sewer rat covered in the muck of the previous night's cr...
Posted by Christopher Poe on Sat, 21 Oct 2006 08:12:00 PST

Chapter 12

Chapter 12My review of the dumb dogs was the usual fare  a picture and a blurb. Kendell stared back from the page with two blurry eyes, a gapping hole for a mouth and a hand raised to God. The peopl...
Posted by Christopher Poe on Sat, 21 Oct 2006 08:02:00 PST

Chapter 11

Chapter 11Today I have Kendell's big protest to go to and I can't begin to tell you how little I'm looking forward to it. Worst case scenario, the place will be packed with people. Best case scenario...
Posted by Christopher Poe on Sat, 21 Oct 2006 07:59:00 PST

Chapter 10

Chapter 10Sometime after Damen was fired from Source for his "creative film making" he decided that what he really wanted to do was become a highly sought after tattoo artist/philosopher/ theologian....
Posted by Christopher Poe on Fri, 20 Oct 2006 11:39:00 PST

Chapter 9

Chapter 9Fast forward to the now where I'm sitting in the Bugle's ladies room with my jeans and over-priced panties around my ankles scanning the wall for glory holes. The door, which I double-checke...
Posted by Christopher Poe on Fri, 20 Oct 2006 11:39:00 PST

Chapter 8

Chapter 8While I've never had anything good to say about Community Inc.'s monopoly on the city's rental units I will say this, their unimaginative cookie-cutter apartment complexes sure make it easy ...
Posted by Christopher Poe on Fri, 20 Oct 2006 11:38:00 PST

Chapter 7

Chapter 7I had been scouring the city for hours before finally seeing the glowing sign for Source Adult Video sandwiched between golden arches and public service billboards. It was the last stop in a...
Posted by Christopher Poe on Fri, 20 Oct 2006 11:35:00 PST