Sometimes, the most beautiful pieces of art,
come from the most damaged and broken
people, isolation in solitude, original persona,
innovator of thought. They’re exiled in social
circles, frowned upon by family, ignored by
most. Dare to be themselves, dared to create
art.
(knowledge variable)

The devout of Saint Sophia, the ones who prayed
Venerated, ******-martyr, holy hunger
The priestesses, vestal tombs. Virgins of Etrusca
What do they know of me?
Waifish, heart-sad, victim of ill womanhood
Persecutor, rejector of the womb,
Denier of her blood.

Radio
was playing Piano Concerto
by Sergei Rachmaninov,
and I felt like passion and love
were filling my heart.

My heart is like a dove.
And I'm off,
I'm off to Paradise.

And it can rain
and it can snow,
and Fate
can tumble the dice.
Nothing can stop me now,
on my way
on my way to Paradise.

Classical music makes life feel so important

Sound pierces silence in the dead of night.
She awakens to prowl the path of destruction.
Screaming fills the air as the hearts of man sink into despair.
Feeding quietly on their souls the beast stares off - oblivion soon to follow
No one knows what's ahead - cowering in darkness they know death will soon fill their nostrils.
A stampede through their home causes shrieking and pandemonium.
There is no happy ending but hope lies in the unknown of extinction.
An unconditioned stimulus controls the innate reward pathway of her sick mind!
HABITUATION!
I'll never forget - though she will, truth lies in the size of the response which slowly fades into the dark.