OMG like, your Lipstick DEFINES you!

So I uhh definately stole this from another blog...
But I thought it was interesting so I decided to post it on mine.
I checked my total of 1 lipstick (honestly, who wears lipstick anymore?) and I'm definately a sharp-angled tip.

I usually think these things are freakin lame, but as you can see this whole system has been developped by Cynthia Christ ladies and (few) gentlemen. I figure if your last name is the same as the son of God's then you're probably not lying haha.

(if the pictures too small just click on it loser -__-)

BITCH, CAN YOU FEEL IT???

Kay, What the fuck is my obsession with lightbulbs, chandeliers, lanterns etc.???

Just watch, in about a month I'm going to have built up another collection of pictures like this...

I need a hobby -__-

Malcolm, The Dying Horseshoe

A case of beer

A bag of pot

Crank in your nose

Words you forgot

Spit up your dreams

The end as it seems

Illusions of the mind

Ticking of the time

Armageddon approaches

The clock in your ear

Work on mood swings and hormones

And a false atmosphere

Speak sick words at night

To keep bad dreams away

Live life like a song

Not good enough to play

And it's never coming back

The life you're throwing away

'Shroom head!

That said,

Malcolm, waddya say?

Someone cares about you

And wants you to stay

Moody music

Techno beats

And a shot glass away

To complete self-destruction

To the ultimate fight

Mind over Universe

Malcolm killed himself that night...

Written By: Niloo Farahzadeh

Like someone would hold a dying child

I should have been a pair of ragged claws...

Let the river of beauty flow
Let the trickles of water go
For I am a thirsty cactus in dire need
And am craving for water to do its deed

But prickly plant from the sand of gold
Beauty you don't need, for water you hold
They come from near and far, you quench their thirst
Even if you poke, you aren't the worst

But I still yearn for the springtime bloom
For the bride to hold me in front of her groom
To be placed in smooth, flowing hair
To dance in the wind with my colours bare

To feel the breeze rich with essence
To get stung by bees and learn my lessons
For that girl to pick me, from my spot
He loves me, he loves me not

And one by one, my petals would fall
My hopes, my fears, my dreams and all
Back to the river of beauty I'd flow
And to another thirsty cactus I'd go

Written By: Niloo Farahzadeh
Photo by: Niloo Farahzadeh