Jess C. Scott

One hand was behind his back, and he held it out, presenting a bouquet of white and smoky purple lilies. __hey__e straight from the underworld, by the way. They are everlasting. They won__ die.

My inner goddess confirms that staring at a beautiful/rich/powerful face is the basis of True Love.

Then he gave me a sweet kiss as if I was his one and only lover.

Other girls play with soft toys,_ I said, __nd you play with knives_

My arms would be wrapped around him like angels_ wings.

[Ever been kissed?]I want to know if you've

When someone loves you, the way they talk about you is different. You feel safe and comfortable.

Killing animals to make a fashion statement = a sickening + cold-blooded vanity.

I knew what it felt like to have no say in who you were as a sexual being. It didn__ just strip away your dignity. It stripped away everything you were: your identity, your self-respect, your pleasure. Because it was all about the pleasure of the other person take, take, taking whatever they wanted from you, even if it was uncomfortable, or caused you pain. Even if you died from it, the other person still wouldn__ care, because it was all about them.

Sex parties, alcohol and drugs lost their appeal to Sven after a while. Music never did, in his continual search for that sober connection--intimacy with one person over a long period of time, as opposed to periods of intimacy with a bunch of random faces.

It was a soulless gaze, burning with a wild hatred that shouldn__ be there in anyone who could call themselves a parent.