Aida Zabidi
My nails are painted and lacquered, and somehow in these moments of frustration they feel like claws - and I ache to dig them deep into the flesh of man and rend open the flesh so blood flows from the wound, bright, red and true.

The hours are too short in the day and I find myself prowling these nights, caught in my own bloodthirsty thoughts. Yet, the hunger within is a different hunger - one born of questions unanswered and places unexplored.

My destiny is my own and this is the path I have chosen.

So be it.
1 Response
  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

Post a Comment