Singular she stands, tall like pride, slender like self-concious. Loud, loud laugher that sounds like crying, issues fourth from eyes like a mouth with lots of white pebble teeth, trying to be straight but non chalant and crooked. She lives on a lake of fire fueld by the passions of men and their sex. Hearts a bleeding, misogynistic, lonely, brash, the lava flows reguardless. No holds barred, or bared like stripping skin offa worthless meat. The bones hate the meat and hiss viciously. Children know and burn this feeling, they throw it away and spend their whole lives trying to get it back.

Rolling, volumptuous, painful, free, expensive, flailing, hot, boiling, bubbling, spilling over, poised uncontrolably on the precipice of hell itself. Beauty painted on, caked on in layers like river banks. Power, uncontrollable. Power in the hands of man. Money, insatiable. Money flows toward me from every source; attract it without the slightest effort. I am money. Passion, emancipated. Passion primal without shame or conceince. Ubiquitous and repressed, scourge of heaven, god sent, dog spared, a cutlass.