abandonedAll you left me with is skin and memories-My blood curdles on the edge of the dawn.
quicksandbut the louder I scream, the faster Isink
carrionI have hearts enough to filla hollow tooth;I cannot do with your weaning,these strange ceremoniesthat draw my mouth away.see: I am striking in my plumage,these dazzling splinters of blueand green.your heart would overfill an eyeor even a stomach, yet youwill not allow me my prey.tell me, among us,who is the most red?
O, he is mad, Laertesbut it was not untilthe thing was donethat he'd the ghastly impudenceto invade her grave,dissembling throughneither pitch nor porticobut wings: sloppy little backaffairs that droopin mawkish mourningfor a thing unloved.she, pale and flutteringin anaemic dementia,cast off life and languagelike a soiled cloak;water gave her more than everyou did,prince
disintegrationI cannot begin to believein a love as strident as this:the small red stone that wasmy god for a yearis reduced to acid and rust.the bleary pinkness of yourmouth quivers with milky prattlewhilst I, with some ignobledignity,am silently sick of shadows
leech jarand with a rusty scalpel (which I always have on hand)I deflower myself, calculatingly, to thwart others' ungainly fingers.I make careful incisions on wrists, ribs, pelvis; but this pesky skin keepsknitting itself back together (albeit imperfectly)when I and my lancet idle.we make poor surgeons,my heart and I.
Or did I?
Well, anyways, I play the viola too! And those tights are awesome! Where did you get them?
what was your assignment for art?
sorry, I get that constantly.
But it's not a violin, it's a viola.
You're welcome by the way.
And thank you.