Sunday, October 4, 2009

the witching hour is an excellent excuse to pine over lost love and drink too much red wine. he knew me when there was only a little grey in my hair. i can only try to imagine the jet black i used to know.

for a good time call frankenstein.
dracula already cornered the market on true love. too bad he was only interested in mortal women. his suave trickery works best on the ladies that can still bask in the sunlight.

is it too much to ask for a single ghost to receive a little love and attention? i guess it's not my lot in afterlife.

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