I hate him so.

Jesus, looking at him is such a woe. 

With his stupidly pretty dirty blond, almost brown hair, 

and his eyes of which their color I cannot name, too afraid to stare.

His clear-rimmed glasses fit his face perfectly,

and his mouth does so even more

—smile leaving me looking wordlessly. 

Voice deep and purposeful, the sound

rumbles through my own chest. 

From this soul torturing admir...

Journal Entry #29 

_I witnessed the transformation of my very own chocolate river into a rich crimson hue during the time when the hallucinatory drug coursed through me without restraint and the birds on my shoulders told me their twisted version of right and wrong. In reality, blood and chocolate share strikingly similar characteristics. The moment I observed their divine yet grotesque ...