Poll: Who will be the victor???
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View poll results: Who will be the victor???
4 57%
3 43%
Voters: 7.
3 Points.
Best of luck.

Hearts, Stars, and Horseshoes, Clovers, and Blue Moons

In short strokes she breathes
leather breath and
concentrates on temperament,
with plans to trade in her trident
for wings
and a cityscape calendar.
In the name of discontent
and in the hope of sacrament,
she lay there showing
half eyelid, half iris,
afraid to sleep alone.

"The only time you ever smile
is the two minutes it takes
to brush your teeth"
she told me once.
"Why is it so hard for you to be happy?"

Short pause for thought,
there is no response.

My tongue serves as a pin-cushion
for her northern revolution,
spawning trendy catch-phrases
and ghosts with unnatural twangs.
I feel like the unborn child of
yesterday's love,
pull a glove over filthy fingers
and I'll prosper well enough.

"I won't eat meat" she said,
"I won't eat meat unless
it still holds some semblance
of pathetic innocence.
And I won't eat meat unless
I'm the one to stop it's heart."

"Yeah, I've noticed"

Fighting off Perfection with a Broken Hand

He looks around nervously with hanging eyes
as she bounces her way towards his delicate frame.
she smiles,
he groans,
she's singing,
he's drinking.
As he's wondering if she can smell him over
her perfume and chapstick,
she's pondering the right choice of words,
to win him over as her latest rebound manboy.

He's got three girls back home,
none of them he wants.
She's got two guys in the palm of her hand already,
but not the one she needs.
They stutter their way through an introduction,
engage in some small talk,
all the while emphasizing their finer traits,
she keeps smiling,
and he keeps looking at his brand new shoes,
maybe if he looks at them enough,
she will notice them too,
besides if he made eye contact she would probably notice,
just how high he really was.
Who knows if this blonde is a whore
like all the others,
a prude, or daughter of an insane father.

But all thats on her mind
is if this guy can kiss like a man,
hold her close to his fragile body
and make her feel like a true woman.
like the last two tried and failed to come through.

when the moment of truth comes,
she scribbles her number on a soggy napkin,
he looks up and mutters a pathetic thank you,
she walks away without turning around,
and he drops the napkin on the hardwood floor
takes one more shot of whiskey
and spits on the partially smeared ink.
he sneers into the midnight air,
"Welcome to the real world bitch."
First... fitted my mood better, plus I think it's tighter.
O! music: Click (Youtube)

^ Click to see an acoustic arrangement of Ke$ha's 'Your Love is my Drug' - everyone's favourite song.