“Sulphurous adulteries grieve in a dream. Cold glass, how you insert yourself Between myself and myself. I scratch like a cat. The blood that runs is dark fruit --- An effect, a cosmetic. You smile. No, it is not fatal. (excerpt from "the other," a poem by Sylvia Plath... oddly appropriate)”
Silencia
SUICIDEGIRL
Oregon, USA
APR 28, 2010 11:22 PM