It feels like fingernails across the moon. Or do you rub your wings together?

I am going to rewrite you so that I can still like people.	The boy who spoke with the sky	I was raised on red pepper and blood. I am so hot if you strike me I will light like a match.	You know it is going to be a strange day when you wake up dead
Auditory miniskirt	You Burn Me Up I'm a Cigarette	I would love for you to come to me with Christmas lights around your head, late night like a ghost	She opened her eyes and spoke in a very normal voice, just as if she were sane
Forsaken on the Moon, How Will We Breathe?	Amid the Midwest, they wait	I had to call my father this evening and tell him I was dying.	Be your own fiction. After that, the story almost writes itself.
Where have my wings gone? They are hidden, embarrassed to be seen.	Are you forever, little one	Fingernail moon	yr
Little burning petals	He not busy being born is busy dying	Hush, I stole them out of the moon	Moon
Perfect From Now On	January 25, 2009