BluHarunoBlssm13

Sunbathing on the white sand beaches of our minds as bright and as barren as snow. The winter of thought and the spring of action, summer is warm on the skin.

what beautiful plumes in the silent deep slick blooms black tear-tracks Poseidon weeps ropes of tar it is a noose more than nuisance - turtle's head breaks surf and gasping choking, he sputters, "No air "I have no air." only black. and foamy blue in the distance. only a film like a shroud pulling down to the deep with the beautiful blooms in the dying deep oil-slick tombs where countless do sleep.

I was on fire. In the delirium, I had nightmares. But they weren't like I'd ever had before. Instead of Erma's yelling there was a fire burning up my throat. In place of loneliness there was ice crawling up my legs – so cold I was nearly burned. I knew it was worse than a nightmare, though. Through the violent thrashing and splitting headaches, I knew it was all real. I was belted to my own bed. I was lighting my insides on fire and dropping my body into ice. And for what? For who? From exertion and resistance, I was soaked nearly head to toe in sweat. When I prodded for answers, my head whipped around again, my neck catching the strain

Looking in the mirror I made a few small mental notes: Shorten the hem – there ought to be more frill showing. There’s no sparkle here. Add some metal loops around the cuffs, perhaps? Pouf the bow on the hip up; it needs to be larger. Adjust the stockings to the new hem. They need to be just long enough to almost meet the frill, but short enough to see a strip of skin. More teal stitching on the edges. No hooker heels. Try it with the flats. And one more thing. . . FIND A GIRL TO TRY IT ON FOR YOU. For a second, I just glared at myself. Yes, this dress was a masterpiece. Yes, I had spent days – nay, weeks -- drawing i