We No Longer Believe In Fairy Tales.

This Was Not A Fearie Tale. This Was Not The Movies. This Was Life. It Hurt More. It Was Excruciating. It Was Excruciatingly Beautiful.

The Rain Is Coming. Little Sister, The Night Broke. The Thunder Cracked My Brain Finally. The Rain Is Coming, I Promise You. I Didn’t Mean To But Your Tears Will Bring Life Back. Purple Flowers Grow, The Colour Blood Looks In The Veins. They’ll Sprout Out Of My Chest. I Promise You They’ll Crack The Ground, Grow Over The Freeways, Down The Slopes To The Sea. I’ll Be In Their Faces. I’ll Be In The Waves, Coming Down From The Sky. I’ll Be Inside The One Who Holds You. And Then I Won’t Be.

I Wanted Him To Hold Me, To Take Care Of Me. To Make The Pain Dissolve Away. I Know That This Was Part Of What Had Ruined Everything But I Wanted It Once More Anyway.

I Dreamed You Were Standing In This Dark Place And You Touched These Dead Flowers And They Lit Up Like They Were Electric Or Something. Electric Lilies. Lighting Up The Valley.

Okay. I Wish For World Peace,” Weetzie Said. “i Am Sorry,” The Genie Said. “i Cant Grant That Wish. Its Out Of My League.” “then I Wish For An Infinite Number Of Wishes!” Those People On Fairy Tales Never Thought Of That. “people In Fairy Tales Wish For That All The Time,” The Genie Said. “they Arent Stupid. It Just Isnt In The Records Because I Cant Grant That Type Of Wish.