dear aphrodite,

there's more philosophy is rocks than in the blood that licks your lips.

i'm really sorry to admit it, sugarplum, but it's the truth as cold and dirty and blue as i can get it.

i hate what we, our lives and wings and hopes and dreams and breaths, have become. i wish we could be five again; be five again and whole and new and alive and all full of smiles and sunshine.

i'm sick of seeing red and hearing red and breathing red and hugging red and being near red. i'm sick of the purple that is created by the red, the blue. if i could i would knock it down; i'd take away the red or the blue, so the purple would have to fall.

helping is pointless, in a world so full of black. i'm tired of trying.

love,
mavourneen