Dear Lord. Everything's a mess.

[The house is quiet. A film of dust covers their books, so they pick one up and leave the room with a frown].

[Tired of reading, they find themselves in a restaurant next. A man eyes them, they let him stare].

[The man seems nice. He tastes of green and chamomile tea, and Michael's day brightens just the tiniest bit].

[The park is quiet, even if they can hear the flowers grow and the trees creak. Children play before them, and they seem happier].

I miss my wings.

[Michael stays near the neon lights, dismissing another drink and looking up at the stars].

[There's too much noise, and he covers his eyes with a small sigh].

[Minutes later, he's kissing someone. It helps, a little, and he makes sure the other goes back home safely].

Hm.

And thus, surrounded by false beauty and the smell of blood.

Your senses must be as sharp as a shark's, then. x.com/eatthedepraved…

Ah, children. Always in disguise.

It's all about keeping good company. x.com/TheYellowMask/…

Kisses and caresses can be poisonous.

Ouch.

You haven't any idea.