20091003

A FOX IS A WOLF CARRYING FLOWERS.





You're the moon and I'm a werewolf. When I'm exposed to you, some feminine evil will escape from the ground and call me like a slave. And I kill all the things I love, and wonder where they've gone in the morning. And I'm beginning to think Venus is an asteroid. So I carry all books tight against the palms of my hands, as if they were The Bible, hoping that they'll pierce me like a silver bullet, through the heart - and I'll never be love's dumb servant again.

This tastes like medicine.

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