My mind: a thousand hungry daughters,my harlot heritage.Marbles: lost, no rescue search.Your heart: blooming thorns,and a stolen grocery cart.

My mind: a thousand hungry daughters,my harlot heritage.Marbles: lost, no rescue search.Your heart: blooming thorns,and a stolen grocery cart.

Virginia Petrucci
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You were, arecactus tourism. meeting you: granularfractals borrowed from oceans.

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My mind: a thousand hungry daughters,my harlot heritage.Marbles: lost, no rescue search.Your heart: blooming thorns,and a stolen grocery cart.

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You crawled inside myribs to die. Giant becomes squirrelbecomes a dirt-wet girlfeverishly alive.

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I like my thingshurried and haunted. Night teadarktime. Sacred geometry, secret geometrypetal-flame whisper: I am here, and you aren't.

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Here's to adrenaline. Here's to dramatic abandon of protocol. Here's to treasured pain and purple rain. Here's to chasing our souls, burning across to sky. Here's to drinking the ash as it falls, and not asking why.

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It's my choice to be beautiful. It's my choice to be ugly. And it's my choice to decided what those words actually mean.

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If only youcould see me as the Devil does: palatable & raw

chasing a chance blue moon
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