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Date Posted: 17:53:01 05/17/02 Fri
Author: Issabella King
Author Host/IP: spider-wf034.proxy.aol.com / 205.188.195.157
Subject: : Behind These Eyes :



.fuck.the.fame.
.i'm.still.the.same.


: Amongst the fuliginous aerospace the Junoesque figure of the hellion embarks from the perilois depths of the evening. Digits were summoned to the cleared nasal passages in effort to wipe away any modicum remains of the ivory powder which had only moments before, been inhaled. As if within a rash demeanor, the unembellished fingers fondeled the array of platinum coils, which were pressed contumeliously from the porcealin visage, which wore a visably nuetral expression. Nude pedates enwrapped within the leather heels summoned a staccato over the rutty, sullied asphalt. Stride was extensive, oval pelvis cavorting in rhythm with the adroited, poignat gait. Seated amongst the visable hip-construction rode a risque, ebon mini skirt of ostentatious onyx. The taut, flattened navel was visable, and just above it beckoned the seam of a cropped vogue chemise. Scarlet in tint, it radiated the fine complexion of the slightly russetted epidermis. :
: Vacant bushels and crates were fondeled beneath manicured nail, before the firm curviature of the buttocks seated itself soundlessly atop the plain. Gratitude was evidently given to the shadows, in which disquised the world-well-known etchings of the hellion’s facial features. Only last month it had been that the chiseled jawline, and majestic pupils, as well as the unyeilding locks of gold had been presemted along the cover of Vogue magazine. If only the readers and fans were knowledgeable of the life in which the fearless one tred :

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