Irish Was A Man Of

Our Fingernails Match Our Toenails, Match Our Lipstick Match Our Rouge...the Habit Of Applying Warpaint Outlasts The Battle.

Some Cities Are Women And Must Be Loved; Others Are Men And Can Only Be Admired Or Bargained With

With That, The Poignant Charm Vanished. Inside The Fifth Machine, All Was Rampant Malignity. Deformed Flowers Thrust Monstrous Horned Tusks And Trumpets Ending In Blaring Teeth Through The Crimson Walls, Rending Them; The Ravenous Garden Slavered Over Its Prey And Every Brick Was Shown In The Act Of Falling. Amid The Violence Of This Transformation, The Oblivion Of The Embrace Went On. The Awakened Girl, In All Her Youthful Loveliness, Still Clasped In The Arms Of A Lover From Whom All The Flesh Had Fallen. He Was A Grinning Skeleton.

In A World Where Women Are Commodities, A Woman Who Refuses To Sell Herself Will Have The Thing She Refuses To Sell Taken Away From Her By Force

I Am Entirely Alone. I And My Shadow Fill The Universe.