I hate his guts

by Tracey Emin

No school for this girl today, the few hours sleep have left their marks and I deserve a nap. We are looking at a busy afternoon, evening and night but I'm looking forward to it. I see now what they wanted me to see, I'm feeling the stuff I need to feel (Even though my heart weeps for the lack of words and silence.. ).

So now all I need to do is get myself ready for an intensive dance class, and another dark night working until the sun comes up in the same room/mess with Mss. Vixen so I won't be alone thats a good thing! I'm thinking cheap wine and cigarettes ..

But once I got back from the shop all I had was a bad tasting bottle of booze in my clutching hands, it was cheap but so are we. We sell ourselves to the empty souls with their eyes staring longingly, we are spreading our legs in the name of art. We are dirty and smelly, we are the handmade freaks, the outcast. Proud of our individuality, sadistic as we are we'll never stop our parade, our ridiculous parade of rotting meat

by Tracey Emin