I do not hate you, though I’m sometimes appalled by the kind of fangs you bring to bear.
But we all have our own bite you know.
You’re building an army of girls; ignorant girls, lost girls, weak girls. Girls who know no better because they have never counted the teeth of a crocodile (directly of course—some of these girls have counted the likenesses embedded in their arms). They are on the right side of that jawline now, and can only tut-tut as the river runs red with their former comrade’s blood. Continue reading “Vipers and Vixens”