Long is the way that out of hell leads up to the light
Out by sixteen or dead on the scene, but together forever
Too much blood. And I can see your gonch!
My best-case scenario, Eleanor, is hair everywhere but my eyeballs, elongation of my spine until my skin splits, teats, and a growing tolerance, maybe even affection for, the smell and taste of feces - not just my own - and then, excruciating death.
Trina Sinclair. D.O.A. at the hair dye aisle. Perished while seeking matching barrettes on nothing but diet pills and laxatives.
