The Fame Monster

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Smoking mirrors; nothing is always as it seems. Behind the glitz and glamour fame is a nightmare, not a dream. All people see is the pearly white smiles and diamond rings, the red carpets and pink frilly things. Little do they know that when the cameras aren’t flashing and the crowds aren’t gathering, alone in the confines of my room I clutch my knees to my chest and allow tears to roll down my cheeks.

It’s funny how the whole world could know your name yet you can still feel so painfully alone. Always on the move, the plane is the only place I can call home. Relentless paparazzi forever stalking my front door; not a day passes that I don’t feel like a lamb to the slaughter, or a piece of meat to be brought and soled with no right to ever say no. I constantly see myself on magazine front covers but they are never a true reflection of me, rather distorted impressions created on a computer screen. But the worst of it? No privacy because my entire life can be seen on TV and my misery is a producer’s greatest glee – “Just think of the ratings!”

The fame monster… it’s big, ugly, scary and if you offer up your blood, it will take your heart instead. No mercy, you can’t click your heels and wish it all away. Sign on the dotted line and the devil is forever right behind, and when the price of fame is too high to pay… your soul is repossessed to settle your debts.

Looking for a Saviour

I considered God a stranger and befriended the bottom of a bottle instead. Now I’m feeling blue and the world is just shades of black and white. A fog in my head, I stand up, tremble and fall to my knees. Lower than the low; for the first time in my life I try reaching out to the saviour and begging to be saved. Hands clasped together, and with all my dying heart I pray for a miracle – a second chance. But it turns out silence is most deafening when you’re crying out the loudest for an answer. I guess after a life spent in the gutter, my death bed was too late to be reaching out for the heavens…

Into the Blue

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I’ve been trying my hardest to feign interest in my book. In truth, I’ve been on the same sentence for about ten minutes now and yet, I still couldn’t even begin to tell you what it’s about. But, in my defense, it’s hard to pay attention to mere ink on a page when you have an alluring goddess in a skimpy blue bikini, gliding effortlessly through a swimming pool before you. Accentuated by the shimmer of water – as much as I try – I can’t help but caress every inch of her curves with the periphery of my vision and fantasies about running my hands over them.

Finally, as if to torture me further, she draws to a halt at the shallow end of the pool and casually saunters up the steps. I watch transfixed as water droplets trickle from her long hair and slide, seductively, down her supple and flawless body. So hypnotised by the pulse racing scene, I don’t notice – until it’s too late – my book tumble from my slack grasp and drop into the water below me. Realising this, I lean over and watch in frustration as my book, ironically titled Into the Blue, sinks all the way down to the bottom. Damn, and I didn’t even get to finish it as well.

Reclaim

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Plump and parted lips purring a whispered moan.

Large soft breasts with nipples hard with wanting.

A warm and moist pussy yearning to be satisfied…

Is this what you want to hear? Are you turned on right now? Is there a bulge growing in your trousers?

 

To you my body is nothing more than an object to be desired and sexualised:

A blank canvas to project your erotic fantasies onto.

The star of your own personal porn film.

The fleshy fodder to your midnight masturbation.

 

And I’m sick of it.

I’m sick of always having to shield my body against your constant mental undressing.

Having to wrestle it away from your grubby hands on a crowded dance floor.

Having to heal it after your sexist words lash like the strike of lightening against my skin.

 

I want to reclaim my body back: away from the patriarchy, away from the male gaze and most importantly, away from the fear that my body could be vulnerable to a man’s lust…

I just want my body back. Why? Because it’s my body; nothing more and nothing less. It is mine and mine alone.

I’m not just a short skirt and a pretty smile, there is more to me than your narrow view could ever begin to see.

 

My body isn’t just for sex, I can use it for many, many things:

Like crawling through trenches and pulling a trigger to defend my country.

Building stamina to push me through the last mile of a marathon.

Being strong and resilient enough to bring a new born baby into this world.

But, above all else my body is the dependable vessel I use to carry my incredible mind.

 

I’m not as superficial or overly obsessed with diamond rings and pink frilly things as you might think.

Beneath the only things you see; the makeup and long flowing hair, my head is home to a richer and more complex world than you could ever imagine.

Like Socrates and the School of Athens, I’m constantly thinking about the wider world and my place in it or like Wes Anderson looking through a camera lens, I’m always seeing life as a spectrum of beautiful colours.

 

I think more about politics, the environment and the possibility of life elsewhere in the universe than I do about fashion.

I think more about my career, the works of Hemingway and raising a family more than I do about celebrities.

So when you look at me don’t just see the breast, arse and thighs – see my big, beautiful, amazing mind instead.

 

Unchained Wings

Bound to flesh and bone, my body is the prison that refuses to let me leave, when all I want is to fulfil my ethereal dreams. I spend day and night looking to the skies, yearning to transcend physical form and leave the earth behind, for the astral plane is where my heart truly resides. Joy for me is dancing in the wind, diving into the clouds and bathing in sunshine, that’s why life could never conjure up anything as divine. Only when my soul is liberated will I get peace of mind, and the chance to satisfy the splendour I see when I close my eyes. Unchain my wings, the world is simply not enough and watch as I soar to the glories above.