arsenic baby drinking teachina cup, glaze violetsfuneral flowers will never fademilk pale as a girl should beblue silk ribbons laced up neather pretty organs, poison curedboning knife between the rib...
blacked out puristsutured lips, methyl flavored stitchesmetabolic junky chokeson candy coated wishesinside drooling artificebehind the sane bleached pearlssour fruit, carbolic acideat static holes in...
And he wore a pretty dress, lined his eyes with kohl. Behind his whirligig eyes there lurks a crazed giggle, a hundred tiny hurts. Poppy seeds in his teeth, he takes his coffee black, watching...
Dry and frail, palefolded as a paper doll,she sits in her red wet cave,absently pulling dry leavesfrom her hair.Her dirty feet are tingling with un-danced waltzes,while uterus quiver...
Into pools of velvet shadowa bone girl walks on bare feetcovered in dust and salther dancing pawsshe thinks;pearl colored thoughtswalking through the battered glasssmoking incandescent dreamsfrom Pla...
It is not the calcified rackthe graceful wing bonesbutterfliedfilled with synovial flutteringIncandescent spook, stretchingelusive, bewhiskered and tail twitchingIt is in the subtle spinethat co...
Pale fingers; delicacies among tribes of ghoulscoldly tracing her favorite monoliths; the color of bonea magnificent barbarianFed on raw fish and fat plum wineshe grows nightshade skin; luminous...
Monster child, candy flesh entersthe world yawning open; lovinglytasting the scent of vanillaand sulfurFattened baby ghost gleamingtoothless grins; droolingspoon fed silver incantationsrosy crucifixi...
the ancient general storehas one dusty cornerfurther back than the other cornerswhere they keep the Kelvinator, rumblingbelching frostwhere they keep the sundriesno-one wants to needquaint smili...
"A dreamer is one that can only find her way by moonlight and her punishment is that she sees dawn before the rest of the world." ~ Oscar Wilde 1888 It is with great consternation ...
behind her ribs, to the left and downnestled just above the spleenrests a most solemn notionshadows curl black smokefrom this small curled thingbutterfly wings in darkness incubatingbat wings,&n...
After nights spent roller skating down the subspace highway, our exhausted monster angel knows that the best breakfast is sugar laced and shimmering with high fructose promises. There are muffi...
It is often a game of dressing up for monster girls. Real Life is a scary place for angel monsters and must be navigated with stealth and trickery. Costumes and masks and shadows drawn on with ...
Some days the rain hisses and whispers outside the window. Curled in her window seat, wrapped in baby goat wool, the winter angel sips hibiscus tea. She listens to the soggy west wind and hears treeh...
There was once a girl. She was glass, blue tinted, her bones pale lavender. She breathed dust and sighed light and spiders wove silky secrets into her ashy hair. The was an e...
In the tallest tower velveteen baby girl is nursed on iced cinnamon lattes and a lupine baba reads her Victorian bedtime tales by warm lamplight. Morbid little tales of cherished loves, Edwardi...
in the kitchen of rambling farmhousesthe wallpaper climbs with wisteria and soft brown water stainsshe stands in her harvest colored dressshe stands and her shadow lets downnerv...
Brittle milkface child dreaming, sharp morning briar wrapping around a glass pedestal. They will creep up, tiny golden thorns no bigger than kitten teeth, sharp enough to draw their bead...
It can be a burden to smile. Lips move over teeth, stretching, elastic, falling insincerely to the floor. Hallways become littered with teeth and tongues shriveled with a thousand small l...
Between bites of lightly salted raw fish the bone girl reads words of fluff and fantasy. Real life is a myriad dream, all the colors shifting at the wrong times, the light never where it ...
It is with practiced fragility that all the fey creatures crouch and slouch. Skin moves over bones, over nerves sighing with atavistic songs, moves through stardust. Dancing fall girls, whirli...
Peeling mandarins, sending clouds of sweet orange into the air, the pilgrim licks sugary fruit juice from her fingertips. She drops the rind on the worn carpet, a bit of magic still spark...
powdered phantoms dance the best boogie woogies in sodium light whenthe wind is full of the smoke the cinnamon incense of funeral rites. pumpki...
from the bottomof a synaptic sizzlespirits movedin a polychromatic clumpa prismatic katamaridancingdown the&n bsp;cobblestonesgrinning avocado refrigerators tree ghosts waving r...
the girl is a calcium vasein the warm center of thingsbehind butterflied ribsresides her umbral ghostcurled as a crimson leafstepping down autumnal arcadespaper leaves are speakingnot in whispersbut ...
Sometimes when she is lonely this feathered pilgrim takes kisses from gilt boxes and presses them to her mouth. Some are like snowflakes, feathery and cold, leaving blue patterns on her puckere...
it is not the graceful calcified rackhanging with sweet meatthat holds the flame of spiritephemeral, elusivebewhiskered and tail twitchingthe uncanny eyesit is the subtle spine, thatcolumn of incande...
Occasionally it is a howling wilderness outside. Tree branches lash wet shadows into geometric nightmares, while sad shy violets shudder and shed all their petals from the violence. Insi...
It is through bone colored air that the powdered pilgrim walks, wearing her pink wig piled high and woven through with tender baby stars, winking gold and sleepy. She carries a cake, sti...
If she was taller she would kiss the tops of the trees without having to climbIf she was thinner she would stand sideways and be hiddenIf she was broader she would carry her house like a snailIf she ...
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