"I am a blasphemous girl." – the talented and beautiful Miss Tairrie B.
Hmm. A collection of, I suppose you could call them "short stories". I'm putting them up so I have them all in one place. Review if you feel the need to, don't if you don't.
Movement I: The Dream
He told me to come, so I followed. I followed all the way down to the shore, where he kissed me. I smiled even as I tasted my blood, I smiled even as he raped me of everything pure I'd ever known, I smiled as he crushed a million Sundays as easily as a hammer taken to a newborn kitten. Easy as a smile, I reached into his chest and plucked his heart from the delicate spread of his jeweled ivory ribs. I licked the cyanide from his wounds as I held his heart in my hands. It was hard and cold as metal. Because it was metal. I squeezed and it shattered into three million pallid pieces, leaving only his Love writhing in my moonlit palm, burning my skin down to the bones. The Love was black like cancer.. because it was cancer. And I bottled his twisted candy-pink disease like one would bottle a dream. I flew years to my voodoo queen and told her of my sorrows, and of how I'd found Love. Together we pried open the vial, releasing the Love. We filled the world full of Love, and it spread like an epidemic. Then I drank my blood and lust and glitter and died quietly, alone in the dark, alone with my twisted candy-pink disease of a dream.