When we were planning...

We forgot about Christmas in July! And I think we should go ahead and pick a date for it so we can be prepared instead of remembering in July!

New Installment of Cute Clothes

Edward Scissor Hand Schematics!

Edward Scissor Hand Schematics!

Thats it for now. Hopefully that last dress will finally be in a damn small so I can buy it -.-

Cute Clothes

I've been searching the web lately for cute clothes because I feel like changing my style up a bit. Or at the very least, buying new clothes. That dress is $100 or Id be on that shiz too >.>. But anyways if you guys find cute clothing sites let me know!

Eh I found this on my computer

Not sure when I wrote it, and I cant decide if I like it since I cant recall what emotion I wrote it with in the first place. Anyways. Enjoy!

I love how I can feel the fire,

Every time I hear your ire.

Burning glistening, beating to the sirens,

Running, faster, postmortem we fly.

Give me a nickel every time I see a child cry,

A penny for the abused, the ones who cant get high

Enough to see the world around them,

To live the life their given,

To be who they wanna be everyday,

So they can finally find that elusive peace,

That exists in that predawn era.

Somewhere between sunsets and sunrises,

There exists a world where little children all go to bed,

And little children all are fed.

And where daddy’s don’t beat mommy’s,

And mommy’s don’t ever leave.

And the world keeps on turning,

Like the color of fall leaves.

In this special place,

There is no racism, poverty, cruelty, fear, unknowns, and long forgottens,

No memories swept under the rug, no wrong turns made,

No life behind, no one ever cries there is only what there is.

But utopias forgotten.

We can’t live in that world.

We survive by our trials.

We die by our words.

We live with what we have done, however its been done,

And that’s how we are made.

Born, broken, beaten, stolen.

Made to the see the world as such an evil place.

Let the sun come out, let the moon shine down.

And let tomorrow bring that good luck charm.

That smiling face, who doesn’t say a word,

Whose gone without a trace.

Common curtsey shown everyday,

Even though the world, throws it back in there face.

And we try and try everyday,

To see our work beaten down and displayed,

Upon an altar of ashes burning with the heart our dreams,

And yet will still deem this world to be our salvation,

The creation and the theme.

So slowly falling apart.

So quickly though it seems,

And even though you cried yesterday.

Today it can not be.

Give me a dove instead of the nickel,

A smile for the penny,

Pay the world just one good deed,

And maybe we won’t need as many.