:: i <3 LORRAiNE SCHWARTZ ::

Disclaimer: I am a Lorraine Schwartz fan, rather than one of Beyonce . She is the designer of "Sasha Fierce's" Robot Glove. The designer, honored to have Beyonce as part of her cliental, slaved away to make the piece, working her artisans for 24 hours a day until it was complete. Here's some info on the making of it and the glove its self:
• It's made of Titanium
• It fits literally like a glove. Beyoncé’s entire upper arm was cast in wax so that the titanium piece would wrap perfectly.
• It’s actually several pieces, including a ring, a glove and a separate component that covers the upper arm. It can be worn all together or separately.
• It looks heavier than it is. Titanium is about 45 percent lighter than steel.

While I find no flaws with the glove in and of itself, I do find a problem in the description that I found of the glove. It included these things that i shared but also attempted to convey that the glove was "priceless because it is made out of titanium, an extremely rare metal." I couldn't help but immediately laugh. While Beyonce's glove may be a priceless accessory, Titanium is FAR from rare or priceless. Obviously, in someone's efforts to share how "cool" Beyonce's glove was they forgot their third grade science. Titanium is actually bought and sold everyday, and is used in large quantities to make everyday products like hammers and pens.

Nonetheless, I think that it's an amazing piece of jewelry and extremely creative. I do credit Beyonce for producing the concept of the glove. This is sheer genius & she was beyond successful in her attempts to accessorize her alter ego. It would be sick if Schwartz decided to come out with a line where she sold a limited number of these. Perhaps even a number as small as fifty. Undoubtedly, I would sell my soul for one. Looking at her jewelry pretty much keeps my heart beating. =]
<3JessicaLynn

::AN OVERDOSE DEMiSE::

Her alarm clock: a foreign machine.
It faintly whispered an irritating “beep”
Never missed a bit.
Uninvited IV’s made homes in her arms.
It looked as though they rang the bell.
Without awaiting an answer they stormed in.
Perhaps then,too late, she noticed their evil.
But she brought "fists to a gun fight"
Strange colored bruises bizarrely somehow appeared beautiful.
Perhaps because they were not the worst of her battle scars.
Swallowing and taking a shallow breath she discovered tubes.
Infinite tubes.
They befriended both my throat and nose.
No.
Not me.
She.

She came to examine her attire.
A long white gown with deep turquoise emblems.
Not one that she could personifying beauty in,
although dressed for the occasion.
Not by choice.
Fear: a soul’s appearance after approaching the gates of death.
and trudging back to those of life.
I was contented by the cold mirror-less room.
No.
Not me.
She.

It was not then that pain befell her.
Her mind wandered to those she loved.
It came to him.
He who she found a love, deep rooted for within.
Her finger tips, addicts.
Evident symptoms of withdraw.
They wandered, only to meet air.
Yearning to have his hand in hers.
Those brown eyes look to the chair, there next to her.
There he sat.
His eyes locked on hers, sealed so tight.
Hoped he could read what was in her soul.
Only her imagination played tricks through her eyes.
An empty room.
I was alone.
No.
Not me.
She.

Seconds in her life passed.
But those turned to minutes.
Minutes to hours.
Then those to days.
She had nearly lost her life, drowned by man’s evil potion.
Remained a float in the chaos that surrounded her.
Beings in long white coats spoke words she did not hear.
Machines gave and took from her body but she did not feel.
Her eyes just remained locked on the device that lay on the stand next to where she laid.
Its face never illuminated.
It’s vibrations never made noise against the plastic surface.
It began.
Starting from the heart and leaking to her brain.
Then to the rest.
It was then that pain surged through my entirety.
No.
Not me.
She.

But then it rang, though her ears were suspicious of her mind’s tricks.
She fumbled to press the green colored button.
Nearly found death again in hearing his velvet voice.
Difference: A girl’s metaphorical death.
But he had nothing to say.
He had better things to do.
Busy.
After a brief thirty seconds she quickly remembered she was alive.
Same: A human’s alive.
The cold sound of disconnection sent chills down her spine.
It consumed me.
No.
Not me.
She.

Tears trickled from those brown eyes.
Never seemed to cease.
Why couldn’t those in white coats drug her for this pain?
Eventually her body began to heal itself.
She still left that cold, four walled room in pain.
She continued to cry but tears no longer dampened her chocolate cheeks.
Saddened because I saw my worth.
No
Not me.
She.

Hurt but it couldn’t be real.
Heart hung by love’s noose.
Sure her soul will die.
When she sees she
is me.

-JessicaLynn

<3 ::LOVE BURGLAR:: <3

“Perfection” begins to vanish right before my very eyes.
Painted on my face is a portrait of trepidation
& though dismay runs through my entirety, I can only gawk.
As deep as the desire runs within me to reach out and stop
what is being played out in slow motion on my life’s screen,
A thick rope has my hands bound behind my back.
The gag stuck in my mouth violently yells
“You don’t have a voice in the matter”.
Slowly and peculiarly, Burgled of love.
-JessicaLynn

:: MUTE & DEAD AiR ::

The mute button is abruptly pressed.
Without the sound track, the silence blares.
Who honestly appreciated the mushy love songs anyways?
My hand isn’t raised.
The tuneless video replays in the 3D I-Max of my mind
Presenting: “The Deepest Running Love”
But the images are almost haunting without the audio
The system is broken but fixable
Unfortunately I’m the only being with the tools at my finger tips.
I frantically fumble with them, unsure how to put them to use.
No degree in love mechanics...
P.S: I lied, my hand was always lowest & went unseen.
But raised.
My feet tapped & heart fluttered to the sound of the 808 beat.
-JessicaLynn

i <3 JEREMY SCOTT?

[[::Make My Fingers Itch::]]

DETAiLS iN THE FABRiC MAKE ME PANiC

Underneath the starlit sky I lay against a cold concrete slab and day dream, gazing off into the distance. I figured the blistering cold would somehow numb the feelings that my heart sends directly from its center to my mind but they cease to whisper secrets in one others ears. I take a drag of the cigarette dangling from my finger tips and it's end seems like the only illuminated entity within a couple mile radius. As the smoke ascends, his name somehow appears within the haze, forcing me to slowly abrade my betraying eyes. At once the illusion disappears. [[Sigh of Relief]] I sluggishly make my way back into the abode that serves as my temporary dwelling and press the dull colored triangle pointed upward, just to the right of the gleaming silver doors. [[DING]] The doors separate and I enter, wishing it's purpose was to transport me to a more significant destination, perhaps closer to him, rather than a couple floors higher. Nonetheless, they close behind me. I slump in the corner & nothing comes to mind except his eyes meeting my gaze, his soft lips gracing mine, or the love that lives within me for him & only him. Minutes lapse. My eyes soften and he vividly appears before me in his one adorable plaid shirts that he knows I unexplainably love on his slim frame. He strokes my cheek, and he silently mouths that he loves me. He disappears. I reach out into the space but only air meets my hands. [[FALSE REALITY]] My eyes open, only to realize that none of the gadgets or buttons in the cold rectangular box have been pressed nor illuminated. I shake my head & reach out to click number two. The doors open and I exit. As expected, the thoughts do not.

<3 LOVE OF HiS TREAD <3

The recognizable crowd composed of void faces stands before me
Though there is no exchange of words, what lies in their eyes is louder than any expression possibly produced by their voice boxes.
I indolently turn to walk away, taking several small paces.
After so many, I discretely peer over my shoulder, yearning for them to have scattered and disappeared into the night.
Yet there they are.
They follow me as if collectively they are my shadow, moving as one completely uncommunicative body.
I remain composed.
Paces eventually transition to immeasurable miles of journey.
With another peer I understand.
There they are. Just as they once were, with the same power in their eyes from introduction.
Composition vanishes.
I separate my lips to release the indignation but nothing but silence seeps.
The speed of my footsteps rapidly increases but no solution is found there.
Like I said: A shadow, No MY shadow
They see something that doesn’t exist within my mind but I don’t have the nerve to tell them I haven’t lost the answers.
I haven’t yet found them.
I find the heart to utter the truth to myself; Only in a whisper.
At once the silence is shattered.
A figure emerges from the darkness, and though his footstep only create a pitter patter sound, they seem like complete racket through the silence.
Pleasant racket.
Taking my hand he acknowledges the crowd.
They nod, unexplainably smiling as they do.
The warmth of his face ignites a feeling of comfort within me.
He swiftly bends down and whispers in my ear and I almost lose the words on account of the velvet tone in each word.
“You haven’t found it, have you?”
I reply with a simple shake of my head to the right then to the left.
“And they think you have.”
In embarrassment, my head drops. Eyes on the frigid ground.
He smiles and whispers in my ear once more
“Neither have I”
My gaze quickly jumps to meet his. I replicate the warm smile he began our seconds long relationship with.
He begins to stroll and I follow, hand still bound to his.
I peer once more over my shoulder.
There they are.
Still.
I smile once more and turn around, contented by the pitter patter of his footsteps.
-JessicaLynnWixx