Candid and humorous. What lies behind those beautiful and illustrious, at other times petrifying moving pictures cast upon your skin? Who am I? Who are you? Oh, god. The caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland.
Expectations stack like buttermilk pancakes in a modular diner in Western Pennsylvania on Saturday morning. Bowl of foiled butter chips on the table in case the butter in the buttermilk pancakes oozing Mrs. Butterworth’s isn’t up to your fatty standards. Now, marry me.
How few! Two word parables. How few look into the mirror and see themselves. How few look across the table and see who sits across the table.
I’m so impatient for the veil to tear. My veil is a half-ton velvet stage curtain. Curtail the curtain! I’m also the one with a monocle and step ladder sewing patches to where my midnight werewolf claws have hacked away.
“I don’t bite.” Of course you do.
