And you think that I'm lying,

But I'm not. I don't have

A poker face.

No sir. There's not much

More to me than this

Showgirl shine…

Pretty pole dancer bride.

Ballpoint angst and rigor mortis

And cheap flowers at our

Funerals. A study in

The unspoken, you've got

Bullets in your smile.

Dani! Died in a hail of

Bullets! You blow me

Kisses I can only catch

Bullets! And it's

Yesterday's mascara VS.

Today's tears, tragedy

In the name of fashion.

We are undead! We are

Undead we are very much alive.

Very much alive, indeed.

(And it is our little secret.)

Shakespeare is dead, but

We aren't. We have managed to

Outlive Romeo and Juliet.

(And it is our little secret.)


I don't like poetry.

Sonnets, to be honest,

Make me want to

Die a little. And

Shakespeare, to be

Truthful, makes me want to

Swallow a knife, or

Drink bleach…

It makes me want to

Catch a bullet. And you…

You make me want to

Hurt myself.

(That's our little secret.)