Title: i wanna be scene (a few verses to the manipulative but tragic slut dying to get out.)
Rating: T.
Warnings: Strong language.
Authores Notes: None.

i wanna be scene.

i wanna be calm, cool, collected.

i wanna take pictures of myself and put them on myspace and get a million and three and a half comments from strangers telling me that i'm their new inspiration and masturbation material.

i wanna be gorgeous and glamorous.

i wanna smear blue and glitter over my lips and smile on the inside.

i wanna make boys stare.

i wanna make girls stare.

i wanna buy my shoes from hot topic and my leggings from hollister.

i wanna be friends with goths and preps and emos; but only the hit picking top swingers of the group.

i wanna dancedancedance on the sidewalks and the tables to the beating of my head.

i wanna flick my hair and show a new color.

i wanna have a rainbow paint my strands.

i wanna be pretty.

i wanna be so fucking scene that it hurts to look in the mirror every morning.

i wanna be known.

i wanna see my face on websites i've never heard of until that day with lyrical captions dedicated to my beauty.

i wanna be silly.

i wanna wear shirts with dinosaurs and giggle.

i wanna make straight a's and go to shows downtown and have a cell phone with a ring tone from a band you've never heard of.

i wanna be insincere and serene and secure in my own inky skin.

i wanna be starry eyed and innocent.

i don't wanna know better.

i wanna be bigger than jesus.

i wanna spread myself over a magazine and wear tight jeans and spaghetti strap band shirts.

i wanna wear a bright blue corset and ego flairs on my ankles.

i wanna be confidant in my step and i wanna believe that everyone else is watching me fly by.

i wanna be dusty and dirty and mother fucking fabulous.

i wanna curse in front of teachers and produce indie films.

i wanna work at the comic book store and wear vintage batman t-shirts.

i wanna have icy eyes and honey smiles and a crew.

i wanna talk until one in the morning about the kid i'm flirting with at the lunch table.

i wanna be free.

i want you to want to tie me down.

i want everyone to be in love with me.

i wanna turn them down and spit pretty in their face.

i wanna gloss my lips and sparkle my hips.

i wanna hug and hold the hands of monsters and draw a comic about it.

i wanna be a scene queen.

i wanna be the god damn queen.

i am so scene underneath this chubby, pale exterior.

i'm little and young and lithely lethal and you want so badly to mess with me.

i wanna bitch and i wanna be the leader of the screamxcore crowd but i can't because i'm trapped in black clothing and plaid shorts and bad fashion sense disguised by the fact i know more models than you.

my veins are underground. blue and red with no mixture of self pity or insomnia or annoyance.

i was not meant for this cage of too much skin and battle field exterior.

honestly i swear to the kurt cobains and pete wentzs and ryan rosses of this puny unknown crowd, these rounded fingers and rounded cheeks and sweaty eyes are not a correct mirror of my gut instincts.

i'm not meant to smudge my eyeliner and i'm not to have my hair matted awkwardly to my forehead.

i'm cute, i swear it. i'm an adorable cunt and i'm a unicorn and i'm differently, uniquely the same as you.

i'm not stupid. i'm not weird. i'm not an outcast.

i don't say stupid things and i don't drop my purse and i'm really not so annoying and i'm not nearly as fugly or rotted or clumsy as you may think.

i was born to be more scene than you.

so stunning, so dazzling audrey kitching does a double take and wants to trade make up tips and take a picture kissing me right on the lips.

(and, oh, i'd let her because she's royalty on the streets and i want to be linked to that.)

(i want to be more ambiguous about my sexuality than i am now – if that's really possible – and i want to wear more eye shadow than i do now – also, if that's even possible – and i want to fit in.)

because i'm fake and plastic and pink and a vapid whore underneath this loudly cheerful reddened face.

and outsides should match the insides.

i wanna be the same to your eyes as i am to mine.

i wanna see a lovely girl made up of products and lies.

i wanna see the same dishonesty and phony moves in the reflections of sweetness; the

same silly pain i feel when i can't sleep at night.

i wanna be scene because i wanna match the insides and the outsides.

i wanna be the newfound god of liars.

just like i am in my head.