She’s a fan of dead things. Like you, in the future. Like Poetry. She scratches the surface of her own emotions until they rip and shred and bleed. Poor thing. The leaking is the relief. A sense of wholeness crushed into the palm like shards of glass- a part of the forever past, it’s just the dying that’s bloody after all…

She is the author of a few mistakes, a human, The Minx, Pixie’s Last Summer, LV U 2 DTH, Lascivious Musings, Sequoia Fire, Feeling Zaffre, Licking Wounds, 730: You Can’t Call Me Crazy In Court Without It, It’s Never Over, Savage Lamentations, Much Like Everything Else It Doesn’t Matter, and Drunk Talk, the one thing in the world that she loathes more than the psychotic cartoon villain bastard she penned it with. She knows why you are here but you can’t make her stay.