Come Hither.

Only for a desperate eye.


Honestly, it's been months since I'd last seen my nails naked, stripped of color. Well, I've been experimenting a lot lately, with colors mainly. The darkest shade of satin, to the lightest pastel, name it. Colors, they play a huge part in my barely valuable existence, you know? And oh, by the way, good job, Lynette. Your nails are so suffocated, they're orange from the lack of air/ sunlight. Yea, might as well drop off, you fucking nails. Go die, really.

Stupid, brainless keratin of a nail (',')




Anyway, gather around me, I need some time to recollect these thoughts of mine. See, we build ourselves, where monsters used to hide. Oh, how we celebrate the mediocrity. My feelings crawl the walls. They crawl the walls, and finally fall. They finally fall. Like empires and old loves, and we're all whores. Some of us just get paid.

I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside of me, and I don't know why. My nightly blood lust has overflown into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. Even asleep, I dream of patients. Like, really, get out my head, no, seriously, get out. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.




"I have carried you since you were born; I have taken care of you from your birth. Even when you are old, I will be the same. Even when your hair has turned gray, I will take care of you. I made you and will take care of you."




Say, my sanity for inner peace? Quite a deal.




I had breakfast with my shadow.