I bit the edge off the wound until it pleased my eyes. until the throb of the pain was just right. I held my hand steady in the flame. I wanted to burn on the outside for a change.
She's got a neck. Built for my hands. The way a pine. Grows for the saw. . They say I hate women. They couldn't be more wrong. They couldn't be more wrong.
My book disproves your book.. My facts have been checked more closely.. And nobody cares.. We see what we want to see.. Fiction non fiction.. Spilling from the same TV..