Violence. A metaphore for love & religion.

Let's break into church and lay your sacrifice across the alter in the name of lust. I want to disembowel you and swallow your entrails. Slit your throat and steal your last breath, sucking the gaping wound of your soul. Wondering all the while what you are thinking. Fear? Euphoria?
 Challenge me. Break me. Dare me. Spread me forcefully and impale me deeply onto you. Make me scream your name. Take me. Fuck me. Bend me to your will. Make me spite you.
Ball your fist in my hair and force me down to my knees watching my eyes burn as your cock slides down to the back of my throat. Gag me. Choke me... sinking my teeth in tasting the blood and cum mix in rivulets over my lips. Smiling sweetly at you.
Tie me to the cross, bind my wrists and set the serpent loose. Squirm, writhe, grind, cry out in rapture as the blindfold is lifted and the serpent is you. Holding the nozzle against my ass, cleansed, purified, pressure building wanting to explode as you brush my clit lightly whispering in my ear.... not yet. Wait for me.
Untie my wrists so I may dig my nails into your back. Untie my ankles so I may wrap my legs around your waist. You become the cross. Skin and sinuous muscles gleaming with sweat. Intoxicating. Crucify me. Nail me. Worship me.
Fall to your own knees with me tightly clinging to you. Back arched thrusting upward entering, splitting me in two. Wounds to your back as though you've been whipped. Scratches deep punctures feeling the welts rise beneath my fingertips. Oblivious to anything but our union and our final release.
And the eyes. Eyes of those ghosts in the stained glass windows. Anniversary of a year bearing witness to all we are. All we will become. Rise to. Love you my Golden God. 

Note to self.

http://www.re-foundobjects.com/category/view/36

http://www.re-foundobjects.com/product/view/1252591027?cat=36

On a white rose ...

... Perches a butterfly who has traveled many miles to return to her spring gardens... the one she is so familiar. Her migration back to this place is but memories now. Her garden has wilted away from neglect and grown over into a jungle of what-ifs. To bring it back to such former splendor would require effort and energy the butterfly could scarcely afford. Her nectar has turned bitter. Not enough to sustain such beauty ...

Just how bad

June 17th, 2011

I want to touch you. How bad I ache beyond anything I've ever known. How you set me on fire when I think of us. The sound of your voice over the phone bringing back our kisses passions stirring me into a state of starvation to have you again. Without saying a word, picturing your response to my mental images knowing full well you hunger too. There is no one who has captured me so completely. No one who's left the cage door so widely open in trust. Every ounce of you is wanted. Needed. I will stay locked in your heart with the key in reach. Let our release be together endlessly in Tennessee. 

I love you C

In dreams we trust

THE LAST BASTION OF WILD AMERICA, WHERE FREEDOM RUNS IN OBLIVIOUS HERDS, I CROSS THE PLAINS OF THE NEVADA WILDERNESS. DESERT OASIS SHIMMERING LIKE JEWELS IN KING HEROD'S CHEST.

I SEE HER BURST THROUGH THE SCRUB BRUSH AND TUMBLEWEEDS IN DIRECT CONTRAST TO THE MAGNIFICENT BEAUTY OF HERSELF. THIS FILLY SO FULL OF HERSELF ALL BLUFF AND BLUSTER. NOSTRILS FLAIR, DARK MANE FLYING IN ALL DIRECTIONS. HOOVES BEAT DOWN THE TRODDEN DESERT FLOOR, KICKING UP DUST DEVILS LIKE THE DEVIL HIMSELF WAS AFTER HER.

SHE STOPS ALL FOURS IN FRONT OF HER. SHE SEES ME. LIFTS HER HEAD AND CONSIDERS ME. THE SWEAT ROLLING DOWN HER WITHERS IN SHEETS OF EQUINE RAIN. THE SMELL OF WILD RAW POWER SURROUNDS MY SENSES AS I STARE IN SILENT WONDER OF HER.

BLINK AND SHES GONE. I BELIEVE THIS TO BE JUST A MOMENT IN TIME WHEN MY MIND SEES WHAT MY HEART HAS ALWAYS WANTED. AN EXPRESSION OF TRUST FROM SOMETHING MUCH LARGER THAN I WILL EVER BE ABLE TO COMPREHEND.

SHE HEARS THE RINGING SHOTS OF THE BLM COPTERS IN HER EARS AS SHE WATCHES ME. SHE SEES HER BROTHERS FALL ALL AROUND HER. THE MEMORY OF THAT DAY STILL AS VIVID AS THE MORNINGS SUNRISE. THE COLORS OF THE SUN RUNNING INTO THE RIVERS OF HER FAMILIES BLOOD. THE THRUMMING OF MY OLD TRUCKS V8 ENGINE SOUNDING LIKE THE ROTOR BLADES OF DEATH ABOVE. SHE SHAKES IT OFF AND TURNS INTO A BOLT OF HORIZONTAL LIGHTNING.

THE STARS OF NIGHT GLITTERY IN SERPENTINE PATTERNS OVER THE VAST EXPANSE OF HORIZON. ONLY THE HILLS TO SHOW OUTLINE DEFINING THE BEGINNING OF THE HEAVENS. MY CAMPFIRE STICKS OUT LIKE A SORE THUMB AGAINST THIS BACKDROP. IT IS A BEACON TO THE SCORPIONS AS I WATCH THEIR KAMIKAZE DANCE INTO THE RING.

I DREAM OF HER. SHE IS HOME WITH ME ON HER OWN 5 ACRES OF PLAYGROUND. I SIT AMONGST THE WILDFLOWERS IN THE SHADE OF A LARGE POPLAR. WATCHING HER ROLL IN THE MUSTARD WEED AND LUPINE. SINEWY MUSCLE ALONG HER CALVES & A SMALL WHITE STAR ON HER CHEST. SHE IS IN BLISS AMONGST THE BEES & GRASS BLADES THAT TICKLE HER NOSE.

I SPEAK LOW TO HER. SHE EYES ME WITH INTEREST. I APPROACH HER SLOWLY GIVING HER ROOM TO RISE AND BOLT IF NECESSARY. SHE STILL EQUATES ME WITH "THAT NOISE" THOUGH BY NOW THERE HAS BEEN SOME BRIDGE TO TRUST. OFFERING HER MY PALM, FINGERS CLOSE TOGETHER, SHE CONTEMPLATES WHAT MY OFFERING MIGHT BE. IT IS NOT IN MY PALM BUT IN MY HEART.

I WAKE TO EMBERS GLOWING AND A COYOTE SONG NOT TOO FAR AWAY. THERE IS FRESH HOOF PRINTS IN MY CAMP. TRACING THEM WITH A FINGER AND LOOKING OFF INTO THE DISTANCE I CAN JUST BARELY MAKE OUT HER HERD. GRAZING PEACEFULLY ON THE DRIED WILD ALFALFA. I AM HERE FOR THIS. THIS SERENITY. THIS QUIET CONTENTEDNESS OF SOUL. I AM HAPPY TO JUST BE AN OBSERVER OF WHAT AMOUNTS TO THE MOST AMAZING GRACE ONES SPIRIT WILL EVER SEE.

THE FACT SHE WAS BRAVE ENOUGH TO COME INTO CAMP RENEWS MY OWN RESERVATIONS ABOUT BEING HERE AT ALL. TALKING MORE TO THE COTTONTAILS THAN MYSELF, I TELL THEM SHE WILL ONE DAY UNDERSTAND THAT I WILL DO HER NO HARM. IT MAY BE AFTER OUR DEATHS. WE MAY ONLY MEET IN OUR DREAMS, BUT THERE SHE WILL SEE MY TRUE HEART AND I HERS.

I CAN NEVER FULLY UNDERSTAND HER STRIFE. WHAT HER LIFE MUST BE LIKE. HOW HER MIND MUST CHANGE IN AN INSTANT FOR SURVIVAL. HOW SHE CAN BE PLAYFUL IN ONE MOMENT AND TERROR STRICKEN THE NEXT. THE WILD WILL NEVER BE TAKEN OUT OF HER. NORE WOULD I EVER WANT IT TO BE.

SETTING OFF ON A HIKE OVER THE PAINTED DESERT ROCK OUTCROPPINGS, MY CAMERA SWINGING BETWEEN MY BREASTS. HOPING TO SEE THEM BELOW IN THE SMALL BOX CANYON WHERE THE WATERING HOLE OF MAN MADE PROVISIONS SUSTAINS THEM. I AM NOT DISAPPOINTED. THE HERD IS ABOUT 30 IN ALL. TAILS SWISHING LONGER THAN ANY TAME PONY I HAVE MET, MY CAMERA CAPTURING THE ESSENCE OF MAGNIFICENT POWER ON FILM. SHE IS NOT AMONG THEM. WORRY SETS IN. "WHAT IFS" COME FASTER THAN I CAN THINK. THE CLICK OF CAMERA SHUTTERS SPEED SLOWER THAN MY THOUGHTS.

UPON RETURNING TO CAMP, SWEAT POOLING IN CREVICES I HADN'T REALIZED I HAD... I AM GREETED WITH A PICTURE OF INCREDIBLE AMUSEMENT. THERE SHE IS. HEAD STUFFED THROUGH THE WINDOW OF MY OLD TRUCKS PASSENGER SIDE. INHALING THE SCENT OF MY ESSENCE AND RED VINYL. "AHHH MY SWEET GIRL WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO?" I STOP AND SIT CROSS LEGGED IN THE SAND. SHE HEARS ME. I KNOW SHE DOES. BUT SOMEHOW THE SCENT OF MY TRUCK AND THE CAMP HAS REASSURED HER. THERE IS NONE OF HER FAMILIES BLOOD SPILLED HERE OR THE SMELL OF POWDER BURNS. I AM 20 YARDS AWAY.

SHE PULLS HER HEAD OUT AND STARES. SNORTING IN DEFIANCE. PAWING AT THE SAND. MY VOICE CALM, I SPEAK TO HER. IT IS THEN I NOTICE THE SMALL STAR IN MY DREAM IS ACTUALLY A DEEP SCAR ON HER CHEST. THE WOUND CARRIES ALL THE TRAGEDY OF HER LIFE. LIKE A PALM READER I FOLLOW THE VEINS BULGING IN HER NECK. BRIGHT EYES, DEEP WITH WISDOM. SHE COMES CLOSER... AND I ASK HER TO TRUST ME. SHE SPOOKS. WHICH IN TURN SCARES ME. SHE IS GONE AND I AM ALONE AGAIN.

THAT NIGHT SHE RETURNS TO MY DREAMS ONCE MORE. TO THAT PERFECT PLACE WHERE FEAR DOES NOT EXIST. WHERE WE BOTH SPEAK EACH OTHERS LANGUAGE. WHERE BLOOD NEVER FLOWS AND SCARS ARE STARS. I MOUNT HER BAREBACK. LEGS SPREAD WIDE WITH MY ARMS AROUND HER NECK. RESTING MY HEAD AGAINST HER MANE SOFTLY BRUSHING MY CHEEK. FEELING EUPHORIC AND IN TUNE. I WHISPER HER NAME.... 

7/14/09

Did you really think I would let you burn alone?

http://www.dreammoods.com/dreamdictionary/

Burning

To see something burning in your dream, indicates that you are experiencing some intense emotions and/or passionate sexual feelings. There is some situation or issue that you can no longer avoid and ignore. Alternatively, it may suggest that you need to take time off for yourself and relax. Perhaps you are you feeling "burned out" or "burned up".

To dream that you or someone is being burned alive, suggests that you are being consumed by your own ambition.

Drownin in the deep

Women are my curse. Hats off to men who can deal with them. Let me know your secret. It's in the smell of their heat and the devil in their eyes and the sway of their hips and the way they lie so easily...

       I

                      will

                                           drown 

                                                                 every

                                                                                        time.

Blue Hole - That "spot"

http://stoneycreeker.com/

Meet you there C... Eerily familiar isn't it. 12 miles from home.

Hendrix

Cleaning headcases

Let the bugs work on your heads outside naturally just make sure they are kept in a wire cage away from thieves. His funniness about the bugs cracks me up. Carnivorous dermestid beetles are found everywhere in the world including your own backyard. So true don't boil your head too long! My coyote head started to flake. Teeth collected after that had fallen out and they do. Superglue works wonders but not easy to fit them back in correctly. Bleach and peroxide dip to whiten after and day or two to dry depending on the size of mount.  Acrylic resin or shellac spray to seal after. *Warning* it doesn't seem to keep the thieves from trying to make them dinner! 
Best kept inside after being sprayed.

I prefer to work with small vertebrae animals. 

Let's just call it recycled roadkill to art. 

I despise hunting! :)

Postmortems

http://www.antiquephotoalbum.nl/ 

Another site very dear to me, stirs the mothering instinct and sorrow when I need a good cry. Post mortems are one of the most beautiful ways of preservation of love I've ever seen. The history of them is both fascinating and haunting. I will often use reproduced ones and hand tint them, incorporating into those shadowboxes I love to make.

Something wicked...

www.moroseandmacabre.com

Very inspiring art makes me want to go back to crafting. Having made an account on Etsy I might just do that. Lots of shadowbox ideas and good use of all those natural history items I've been collecting :)

Runs with scissors

Those of You Born
1930 - 1979

TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED THE 

1930's, 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's!! 

First, we survived being born to mothers 

Who smoked and/or drank while they were 

Pregnant. 

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, 

Tuna from a can and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-base paints. 

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, 

Locks on doors or cabinets and when we rode 

Our bikes, we had baseball caps not helmets on our heads.

As infants & children, 

We would ride in cars with no car seats, 

No booster seats, no seat belts, no air bags, bald tires and sometimes no brakes. 

Riding in the back of a pick-up truck on a warm day 

Was always a special treat. 

We drank water 

From the garden hose and not from a bottle. 

We shared one soft drink with four friends, 

From one bottle and no one actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter and bacon. 

We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar. 

And, we weren't overweight. 

WHY? 

Because we were 

Always outside playing...that's why! 

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, 

As long as we were back when the 

Streetlights came on. 

No one was able 

To reach us all day. And, we were O.K. 

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps 

And then ride them down the hill, only to find out 

We forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes

a few times, we learned to solve the problem. 

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's and X-boxes.

There were no video games, no 150 channels on cable,

No video movies or DVD's, no surround-sound or CD's, 

No cell phones, 

No personal computers, no Internet and no chat rooms. 

WE HAD FRIENDS 

And we went outside and found them! 

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth

And there were no lawsuits from these accidents. 

We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, 

And the worms did not live in us 

Forever. 

We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays,

Made up games with sticks and tennis balls and, 

Although we were told it would happen, 

We did not put out very many eyes.. 

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and 

Knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just 

Walked in and talked to them. 

Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. 

Those who didn't had to learn to deal 

With disappointment. 

Imagine that!! 

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law 

Was unheard of. 

They actually sided with the law! 

These generations have produced some of the best 

Risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever. 

The past 50 years 

Have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, 

and we learned how to deal with it all. 

If YOU are one of them? 

CONGRATULATIONS! 

You might want to share this with others 

who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the 

lawyers and the government regulated so much of our lives

for our own good. 

While you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know

how brave and lucky their parents were. 

Kind of makes you want to run through the house 

with scissors, doesn't it ?

Author Unknown 

Move over me

Intensity driven, thoughts drift in and out of you as tendrils lace around my heart. Countdown begins breathing new life and rebirth of an almost spiritual nature. Such is you. Sunken in deep as my nails to your back echos what you have done to my soul. It is the old ways of viewing life that have no hold. It is the new ways of love that hold the key to everything. 

Us. Now. Always. 

Move with me... move over me...

Where's Murphy?

Ahh my arch nemesis Murphy strikes again. He is secretly hiding behind "Where's Waldo" in the scenic backdrop of my life. Yesterday he was in my computer. Tonight C's. I've seen him in the gas pump regurgitating the prices up. He's been spotted in the phone lines hiding behind the ruse of an "all inclusive" plan.  He's in the thunderstorms and the lightening strikes of Cincinnati. He curls around my waist making it harder to button my jeans. He took a dump on the bathroom rug and blamed it on the cat. He rode around in the backseat of a rental car in Kentucky... There is but one law to abide.  

KILL ALL MURPHYS!

Abandonment = Hoarding

What is death? If not but a form of abandonment. The first step to recovery is acknowledging there's a problem so they say. Oh yes.... it is a problem. This continual abandonment. Loss. No blood. Bits and pieces of what was and will never be again. Manifested into a mountain of tangible memories. Old radios, WW2 memorabilia  useless to anyone but you. Kept for the simple reason that it was all important to you. Hence important to me. Or is it? At one time I thought so. You and the ghosts of what was, belong here. I don't think I ever belonged anywhere. At least in death you know you have a permanent home. Your belongings and I have made peace. They will be resurrected upon the shelves of some other collector who will once again see the value of dust.

Peace of my mind

Maybe it's the way you hand me those puzzle pieces of yourself. Maybe it's the way they sometimes seem to have extras left over when my mind is already made up of pieces of my own without yours. Maybe it's fear. Something you don't understand. Maybe it's just excuses. What I do know is that solitude is a huge piece. A place where the pieces of my mind come together in the quiet of the night. The image it always makes is that of you and I. Full lives, passionate, lovingly well rounded and worn to a soft hue of feathery dog eared edges. Allow me this time to piece it together just once more... before that puzzle jumps off my brain pan and into your arms for life.

I hate Cincinnati Bell

Time ticks on... The hours shorten as does my patience. Thoughts decieve and wish to derail all that I know of you. Wandering in and out of foolish landscapes, empty bed and the cats advantage of your pillow. How I wish it was you...

Book of Secrets

Might of might. Splendor of splendor. This is the terror inherent in love: that such power may exist without reason, that death may be feared and lusted for as a woman, that passion gives rise to passion. I am moved by desire as if in a boat transported from horizon to horizon. What I have done for love, let it be held against me. I am a man whose heart is too full. I am a man empty of sin. It is life I desire and my lust for it and I shall enter the heart of the mountain together. Together we shall be judged by shining beasts and they shall say "There walks he who loved life." One day, with a shout, I'll rise through the sky. My voice will mingle with air. I'll cross horizons; with silver wings I'll enter the realm of magic. Within the temple of mountain and sky, corn grows amid earth's yellow scars. This is the sacred cathedral of Ra into which men long to enter. My name will recall the countless stars under which new lovers kiss. Death ferries me to a distant shore while striped fish spawn on turquoise waters, while black fish leap in white rivers.

Momma.. remember?

Don't forget to wipe.
Yes Momma.
Eat your peas.
Yes Mom.
Did you do your homework?
Yes Mom.
Be home by midnight!
Yes Mom.
You're late for work, get up!
Yes Mom.
Please call me when you get there.
Yes Mom.
Did you remember your Fathers birthday?
Yes Mom.
Did you still want me to babysit this weekend?
Yes Mom.
Mom?
Remember you offered to babysit...
Mom?
Did you forget Dads birthday?
Mom?
You were supposed to call me when you got there.
Mom?
Can't talk right now, I'm working. Remember?
Mom?
It's midnight what's wrong....
Mom?
Mom?
Hello?

Tennessee

Moving here 17 years ago I was struck by the small town atmosphere. So different than that I had grown up in. There were few cars on the single lane highway to get here from Los Angeles. The ride was worthy of rolling down the windows to let the pungent fragrance of orange blossoms filter through the car... that is after you passed the dairy farms. Pulling into the driveway of our single story sprawling ranch house with it's 3/4 acre lot awaiting horses for boarding. The skies at night were so pitch that even on cloudy evenings the stars and planets shone as brightly as any I had ever seen in a desert sky. The dead calm and stillness in the air was filled with the sounds of nocturnal animals. Frogs croaking loudly from the lake, the owls roosting in our eves, the coyotes cries to one another tracking prey. My neighbors on our cul-de-sac were all youngish families with children all about the same age as mine. We were a tight knit bunch who held backyard bbqs and bunco parties every weekend. The kids all growing up together attending school and themed birthday parties. There was only one stop sign and that was at the busiest intersection in the middle of town. Not a single paved road. All the Mom & Pop stores knew you by name and there was no such thing as WalMart. We did have a K-mart with the friendliest clerks you would ever want to meet. They were more than happy to give you their address to come dig plants in their yards if they saw you purchase something from the garden dept. that they already had established just to save you some money. To get there you had to drive around the Lake. It took all of maybe 10 minutes. On a clear day you could see straight down to the bottom of it and catch a glimpse of our fabled monster. Look up in the other direction and see the remains of Aimees Castle steeped in so much rich history.....

it's......
           all......
                     gone.

And so I start anew. To return to some semblance of this life where I was so happy. They call it Tennessee. I know it will be home to me.

Astrology at it's finest

Have you met a Cancerian woman recently? Are you a little confused as to what she really is - chirpy, somber or distant? She is all of these and still, she is none of these. Even more confused? A Cancerian woman has mood swings every now and then and these are only a few of her mood swings. However, her basic personality traits remain the same. She is very sensitive, emotional, kind and caring. Now's the catch! Most of her traits will be hidden behind a shell of indifference and aloofness, breaking which will require quite a lot of effort.

 

Probably the best site I've ever found for accurate

horror-oscopes

http://www.iloveindia.com/astrology/index.html

The Witch of Atlas

A lovely lady garmented in light
From her own beauty--deep her eyes, as are
Two openings of unfathomable night
Seen through a Temple's cloven roof--her hair
Dark--the dim brain whirls dizzy with delight.

Picturing her form; her soft smiles shone afar,
And her low voice was heard like love, and drew
All living things towards this wonder new.

http://www.online-literature.com/shelley_percy/2776/



Artist - Filip Novy



 

~Where To Touch Me~

And he whispered to me in the darkness as we lay together, "Tell me where to touch you so that I can drive you insane. Tell me where to touch you to give you the ultimate pleasure. Tell me where to touch you so that we will truly own each other." And she kissed him softly and whispered back..."touch my mind."

Find a penny

=^..^= ~: What are you thinking about?
C: You and how lucky I am.
=^..^= ~: You ever feel like a penny
=^..^= ~: on the pavement...
=^..^= ~: People pass you by because you don't look to have much value and they don't have the energy to bend over and pick you up.
C: Yeah that's one way of looking at it I guess.
=^..^= ~: I pick up pennies. Because one eventually will be special. Different than your standard. Collectable. Valuable. Rare.
=^..^= ~: I found that in you.
=^..^= ~: So yes. You are my lucky penny and I'll carry you with me always.
C: You are mine as well. I wasn't even looking and you caught my eye and have remained with me ever since.

"You're NOT going to TOUCH MewMew!!!!"

Wedded bliss. We all get there eventually. Right? Mine lives in a glass beer bottle in the curio. He's much happier. He really is ;)

Fantasy Taxidermy

http://www.customcreaturetaxidermy.com/Site/INTRODUCTION.html

This woman is a genius. What is it with the facination of bones? I have little skeletons and ashes all neatly displayed in my curios. Perhaps it's the value in celebrating little lives. Momentos of morbidity. Whatever it is they have facinated me since I was a mere mouse myself.

Sweetest Ache

If ever there was a moment in time in my sorted past relations... I don't believe there was ever a sweeter ache than the anticipation I feel now. It creeps around me and grips my soul, my heart and what's left of my mind. Your kisses haunt me. For that fleeting two hours of bliss, every question was answered. Mirror image of love reflected back in each others eyes. I will never forget those eyes... pools of liquid lust and desire. I have never felt so wanted.

....and I want you so BAD it hurts like hell!!!

                                                                      I love you C.

Let's flip for it

Down to my last dime today (well in my checking acct) I eyeballed the Sparkletts bottle with 20 years of collected change in it. Sitting inconspicuously in the corner of the den collecting as many dust bunnies as collectable quarters. That's a lot of collecting. Even more sorting... sitting cross legged on the floor with this monster between my legs wrestling it to the ground. It rivaled a heavyweight champion and spit out change like teeth. Somewhere amongst the Chuck E. Cheese tolkens and wheat pennies is a fortune to be made. It will be interesting to see just how much this nets at the Coinstar machine. Reminds me of a backwards old fashioned slot machine. I hear they give out gift cards too... considering what my hands looked like afterwards I'm hoping they have one for manicures. Any guesses how much a full Sparkletts bottle is worth?

Siouxsie meets Edna

"She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.
She has more hair than she needs;
In the sun 'tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of colored beads,
Or steps leading into the sea.
She loves me all that she can,
And her ways to my ways resign;
But she was not made for any man,
And she never will be all mine."

Edna St. Vincent Millay

"Miss"placed Girlfriend

About 5ft ... well 5 inches in SL. Lil thing. She was wearing a (group) tag but I'm not sure who it said to return her to. Remind me to get her a collar for her birthday. It's coming up on April 19th. I'm getting a blowup doll for mine. They have more personality.