The grey is inexpicably pregnant for the most part, and sometimes, looking for simple answers will not suffice.
Gun in hand, she walks down the aisle, her gown bloodied of its former white...
they came to me by virtue of a whispering heart
I want to shake down the stars so as you count the tears of weeping gods, you will remember the hurt did not begin with you
Inside the waves of her heated climax, savage to the desire persisting past her wailing lips of thunder and hypnosis. For we only wake when we sleep