Crimson angles flicker, lighting up a nail on blackboard kind of affection.

Lost in sands of desire, I long to be just like her.

Staring back at me is something... wrong, a work in progress. I must have sat there for hours. Finally, I come to the conclusion; there's something… missing, yet so much to disappear.



Time is running out.



Falling onto my back, I contemplate the hours I am to spend here.

Frustrated, I push her face into the mirror… I was never very patient. Seeing her in this state makes me so sad, so I light up, hoping to find solace. I watch the smoke entwine and choke the doll hanging above my head.

Blinking is too painful, so I'll shut my eyes and wait instead.




The stench of loneliness is lingering about my room; the angels have long since withered away … I am ready? Cautiously, I move my hand, toward my chest … The slow, steady thudding reassures me that there's still time.

I smile, as my hand brushes past protruding ribs, to find its withered partner, resting where my stomach use to lie.

It hasn't trembled for four days now…

Is this perfection?