My cello is hungery for a name. She calls to me day and night in a voice like a tiger- "Name ME NOW." Oh, how we bicker like first graders in love. *Pinch*"what is my name" *pluck* i'm wembling *Smack* "name me" *snap*stop hitting me!
Could it be she is just to grand for a name, too powerfull and macab like the acient gods of yore- those that shall not be utterd- creatures before time asleep untill its death(dare i call her cuthulu? that is too manly)
Why won't she leave me alone?? she wails! Banshee of strings! I must comfort her, Sickert only knows what she might do if left neglected. I come I come my love. my little cuthulu, my wooden monster.
Could it be she is just to grand for a name, too powerfull and macab like the acient gods of yore- those that shall not be utterd- creatures before time asleep untill its death(dare i call her cuthulu? that is too manly)
Why won't she leave me alone?? she wails! Banshee of strings! I must comfort her, Sickert only knows what she might do if left neglected. I come I come my love. my little cuthulu, my wooden monster.