I am in love with the dead, the dying, everything that is ugly. I dream of the weak and the starving and want them wrapped tightly in my arms until the last sigh of life is squeezed from their frail bodies. I love the wretched, I love the wronged, I love the destroyers of beautiful things and then I love those things they have destroyed. I long for flames at the flower’s base and for broken bottles all throughout the streets. I love all that is wrong and hurt and abused and marginalized – I love the sound of sirens and gun shots and bombs and crying and wailing and more than anything else in the world, I love the sight of a tear against the soft cheeks of usurped innocence.
Whore Magazine #2
And here is Whore #2 – I’ve procrastinated enough and while I’m not happy with it still, and have some more to put in and some to take out, I’m hoping that by putting the unfinished product here, I will be motivated to make it better for fear of horrible responses. So, without further a … Read moreWhore Magazine #2