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• Artiste: A Star Called Wormwood
• Titre: Hysterical Paroxysm
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in this space she wastes the days isolated until its time for her to put on that cheap plastic, pornographic performance and with a flick of her wrist she tells me that this is all there is dear girl, how can you be so sure? her body is a temple but i can't wait to see the holy of holies and whisper divine names her body is a temple but i can't wait to drink from the cup that held the blood of christ she says she needs a drink and i tell her i can offer her more i tell her of the satisfaction she reminds me that she's still a whore she could understand but she's not listening she can't hear me tell her faith is not her friend the moon is hers to taste if she wants it and anything else that she can name is hers to take a true hysterical paroxysm but she's content with the ones she can fake