You Are So Intense. Like A Storm.

If Death Is Your Father, You Don't Ever Have To Worry About What Part Of His Body The Disease Will Strike Next. If Death Is Your Lover, You Don't Have To Be Afraid That He Will Ever Leave You.

I Saw My Own Blood And I Thought, How Could I Live In A World Where This Exists- Where Love Can Become Death?

The Circus Tent Was Flowing Pale In The Rain Like A Fleshy Flower Lit From Within. It Seemed To Bloom In The Downpour. Drops Of Rain Caught On Rafe's Eyelashes, Blinding Him As The Circus Light Struck Them. He Groped For The Flap, That Slit In The Fabric That Would Reveal Her To Him. She Was On The Rope Again, Her Skirt Flashing With Tiny Mirrors, Hair Braided With Petals. He Looked Up At Her, Dizzy With It, Seeing Her Face Framed In The Parasol. There Were Bluish Shadows Around Her Eyes.

Choose To Believe In Your Own Myth Your Own Glamour Your Own Spell A Young Woman Who Does This (even If She Is Just Pretending) Has Everything.

I Didn't Tell Him That What I Was Most Scared Of, Most Haunted By, Was Something I Didn't Understand And Could Never Run Away From. It Was Myself.