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.