August 25, 2004

We are all like garbage, tossed to the curb, like some unwanted waste.

Our moments of beauty, long since fading - like the aging thirty-something runway model, sticking her face in the shine of any camera... even if it's only a single flash - we smile pretty and remember...

Once upon a time, our limelight twinkled and we were adored. We found solace in our own selfishness, our own twisted sense of pride - we didn't know that it really meant nothing to the rest of the world. Disallusioned, starry-eyed whores.

We'd sell ourselves to anyone for a little taste of nicotine, alcohol, or attention. We all want our own escapes - our own drugs to become addicted to. Doesn't matter if it's heroin or love. They're one in the same in this bag we can't put down.

So we lie, we cheat, we beg, we steal... just for another hit, another taste, to kill the craving... kill the pain.

Without our addictions, we are nothing to no one because we built ourselves up on false pedastals and fake friends.

We are all like garbage... the filthy sluts of society's creation.