under the aparent darkness,
the nacar red of your lips
give me ligth.

between the tender and quiet
kisses of fire, you absorved
my darkness

there was no magic, it was
just that, two dark beings
absorving ligth.

a beast with a loewe head,
desolated, tormented, for
his pain.

between the lost and desdain,
and with desire sticked
to his skin.

the ligth in absolut darkness,
years looking that skin of silk,
those lips sweet as honney.

the silky and perfumated lips,
of a beautiful shadow, a lioness
in the dark.

and who will know, only darkness,
about that silk skin, that give ligth,
in a dark nigth.

a loewe, the lost descendant,
looking the way, and to that silk skin,
of honey gold and fire.

a lion lost in shadows, looking that
skin, that as divine grace, or gifth
of friendly gods.

found me, catch and love me
in the shadows, rigth before dawn,
giving life to the blackened heart.


and the flux of life, of strength,
to resist mi strokes, controling
herself tenderly.

never scared of my roarings,
only the beautiful fire, she give me,
with her nacar red lips.

her femmale lips, a beast, beautiful
with her skin of silk, perfumated and
HERMOSA,  A MUSE IN THE SHADOW.

tenderly resisting to the attacks of a
beast, thirsty of her, her ***, her blood, kissing
her skin inch by inch.

the HERMOSA shadow, with silk skin,
and nacar red lips, resist even thou, she
wanted to lay next to this beast

thirsty of her, her body, her etternal legs,
her *** of MUJER HERMOSA,
the beautiful and sweet lioness, that was mine
in absolut darkness..

The forever-stench of hoboken
The most composed... undress
Loosened to a senseless smirk
Keep walking...
The prettiest eyes droop to a cool low
Posture is hard to keep with them shots!
Keep walking...
Messaging another senseful planet the boring absurdity of now
Watch your step!
Her fine italian dinner is inches away
Or is it fine thai...
It's vulgarity kills any sense of definition
Uh oh... now there are more puddles!
Keep away from those leaking lakes
Of sushi... sashimi... heineken... absolut!
Absolutely acceptable in this town!
Come on! We're almost out of it
Out of the town we were once so happy to visit just a couple of hours ago
When everyone was efficient, and not venturing *****
When communication wasn't fogged, but clear and easy
When men didn't dress like 14 year old boys trying to score at a house party
And women didn't give away their IQ so easily, heads slightly bent forward with a lack of direction
Maybe it was home, maybe it was danger, maybe it was fun
The zombie within arose with a wretched stench of alcohol
Yet this will never stop selling
People are sold this "treasure" of acceptance, rank, a strong sense of esotericism, all lies
Yet in reality, they are simple facades, regular people like you and me.
O Hoboken, you stink

I have to shower soon, and every breath of wind
that brushes against my ***** skin
reminds me of everything
I hope they don't tell you about this morning.


I smell like sweat and *****,
and all I want is a redo.
I want "may I?" eyes.

and you feel the day slip away -

i lost my incredibly absolut day
to a wafer thin, cappuccino hued
boy who showed an infinity for
expressing his appreciation for
color and curiosity by outfitting
himself in raven blues and navy
blacks. and on his angular cheeks
and butterfly lashes, i caught the
honor of an absolut wink and a
flush of mischief. on the promise
of a full, absolute day, i felt my day
slip away as certain as his wingless
back held my eye and ducked down
a sunlit alley and i pulled my hoarsed
voice into whispering, "hello."

ABSOLUT 0!

the greedy trees
liked to bleed the green
to spite the leaves.
they seem to be
pretty pleased by
believing in a
definitive middle.
  
then **** soon
flew off the richter
cause it wasn't so simple,

1 to 3 easy.
          
when the police
beeped the gentry,
oil already leaked
on the scene
even though
hunting season
was ending.

&seeding; season
pleaded for
beginning
& forgiveness
for bearing false witness
to a new system called
self sufficience.


take one leave one
break one mean one
make one be one



of what.

I always feel my best with pulsing veins
of Absolut or Johnnie Walker neat,
or devil’s dust to take away my pain,
a thin syringe injecting hell’s deceit.
Though sorrow loses strength with needle sting
and moods arise with belts of liquid heat,
I know the tingling twitch will always bring
electric blood when morning comes to greet.
But still I struggle with the current’s craze,
euphoric numb that always plugs and sways
the battle in-between the nights and days,
the sunset hour with all its shades of grays
where all the choices made are surely wrong-
I wake at dusk and start my morning strong.

when I pour ***** **** on my wounds
so I can sleep in the pain
that burns a hole in my chest when I drain
away the **** with a side of *******;
it's as if I'm winning it all--but in the end
I've only lost myself in the fall;
from the finest of nights to the poorest of woes,
I'm throwing just for throws 'cause I've got nothing to hold
‘cept you when I'm gone, done escape from this world
to sounds of shot glasses shattering insane,
blood falling like rain;
"****, ****, I'm out--
I ain't playin' this game."

In too far, don't know how it'd begun;
Don't know the difference
between dying and fun, it's all the same--
There's lipstick smeared on my name, whiskey flaming
too bright ***** can't even put it out
so I shout, hoping you'll pull me out,
push me down, **** me out--
It's over, I'm done.

den mest afskyelige følelse nogensinde,
et vink, hvorfor,
hvordan kan man være så dum,
som mig

absolut den mest nedværdigende følelse nogensinde,
desperat,
jeg kan se det for mig,
dig der råber af ham i telefonen,
går direkte forbi mig,
dig der snakker med hende,
går direkte forbi mig,
jeg kan høre dine tanker,
desperat,
desperat,
desperat,

absolut den mest afskyelige nedværdigende følelse nogensinde,

oh how ignorant i must've been.
to think the best things in the world were
hot coffee and cigarettes,
drinking on the beach while fireworks went off.
the overwhelming sense of reality I'd get when
the wind would pull me out to sea
and waves would kiss my thighs.
these were the best things,
not but a week ago.
and now i know with nothing but
absolut conviction,
the best thing
in this world
is waking up to kisses
on my shoulders
from a man
i hardly know
yet i know is one of
us.

goodmorning, beautiful.

Machmal denke ich günstig für nicht sein,
Denn ich kann nicht zu viel sehr gut machen.
Ich bin zu klein, zu kurz, and nicht klug
Nicht friedlich genug, oder zu verrückt und komisch.
Meine Geschwister meinten das ich bin sehr ägerlich.
Aber meine Freunde hat etwas anderes sagen.
Sie denken ich bin nett and freundlich,
Lustig and vielleicht schon,
Und ein absolut Schlauberger.
Ich glaube sie fast nie,
Aber ich beginne zu sie glauben.

Sometimes I think I'm good for nothing
Because I cannot do too much well.
I am too small, too short, and not smart
Not peaceful enough or too crazy and weird.
My siblings think that I'm very annoying
But my friends have said something else.
They think I'm nice and friendly
Funny and maybe pretty
And an absolute smarty pants
I almost never believe them
But I am beginning to believe them.

it's too boring to be simply up to no good
vanilla skin and ashen lips, shaking hands
sly, slender nostrils that started drip wine again
convinced she's not a person without him

when she laughs that cool laugh
these straight lines that keep her
coiled and uncoiling again
she smells like absolut and lust, cheap perfume

I am dumb
with wonder, that I'm
not torn asunder, that my brain and body don't burst, under the
torment of the demon that lives in me.
He longs to be free, struggling clawing, scratching to be released, shrieking at me to write the words that reside inside.
I tried hard to drown him with ***** and Guinness Stout, but he learned to swim.

So once again, we toast the night alone by candlelight, as I read Sylvia Plath while he takes a bath in dark Irish beer. He knows that writing's fantastic, *******, electric, and we *** together as he whispers me sweet prose while doing the back float in a sea of Absolut.
I'm destitute, but he doesn't care, just as long as I share his seed that spills from my quill.
And so, I hear is shrill voice in the middle of the night, screaming, screeching, write *******,
write.

Take this feeling from my gut, or give me a gun
Carbonated soda in the pit of your stomach
And candy cane lips I wanna **** on
Excuse me for being crass,
but all I want is your hands on my ***
Your nails are gonna dig a thousand stories into my skin
And I've never felt more alive
Singing the absolut lullaby

Halfway between past and future,
Life and death, singularity and universality,
The eye is looking through the clepsydra of time,
The Absolut,
- I am the only one twisting the strings of conflux,
The Eternal tells,
-All things from today and tomorrow already happened,
It is all in vain, don't even  bother,
There are even memories of
The worlds that haven't been born yet,

Tying to suspend time,
Why?
When the days and nights are unchanged
From the beginning of the world.

"Dalam segala manis dan tragisnya perkawinan,
Kami sebagai perempuan, mati berkali-kali
Dan lahir pula kembali—
Tentu juga berkali-kali

Disaat kau menyaksikan puluhan katup bibir yang mengatakan “Sah.”
Disaat itu pula,
Kau seakan disadarkan
Bahwa kau tak lebih dari pisau yang harus terus diasah

Bukan supaya tajam untuk dapat menikam,
Namun supaya siap mencacah manis-pahitnya peristiwa kehidupan menjadi dadu-dadu kecil
Lalu menanyakan untuk menyerapnya kembali
Untuk diri sendiri

Kau,
Mati dan lahir lagi,
Bukan sebagai isteri,
Namun seutuhnya sebagai wanita yang mengayomi
Sampai akhirnya kematian itu berdiri di depan pintu
Untuk menjemputmu lagi

Disaat kau duduk dan melihat pandangan puluhan manusia
Yang seakan-akan mengatakan,
“Berpandailah dengan urusan dapur.”
Mereka dengan bodohnya menutup mata kepada fakta

Bahwa sekarang, kau adalah busur
Yang dengan senantiasa akan mengarahkan kemana anak-anak panahmu melaju
Kau, bertulang rusuk dan adalah tulang rusuk
Bukan tulang rusuk dari lanangmu,
Namun dari rumah segala rumah

Disaat insan keci itu menangis lahir,
Disitulah Tuhan dengan segala kuasa-Nya menyemukakanmu
Dengan kelahiran yang absolut.
Mutlak. Nyata. Tanpa majas atau embel-embel.

Kau, bukan hanya wanita bersusu yang menyusui;
Walau serapanmu terhadap puji-kejinya kehidupan
Akan juga diserap oleh ‘anak panah’ mu
Melalui air susu dan tutur katamu

Disaat kau melahirkan anak manusia,
Tentunya tanpa tanda tanya,
Kau betul-betul
Lahir kembali."

with every promise comes uncertainty,
and that's something i've never
been comfortable with so i'd
like to say, "i promise,"
and i'd like to say,

"forever," but you said, "fornever,"
and chased it down with
a shot of absolut plus
"and for always,"and then
i managed to convinced myself,

"i can handle tonight," and
you said, "i love you,"
so i said, "please, please...
take me down," and you
said, "how far?" so i...

showed you.

.
                                   absolute
                             power corrupts
                          absolutely absolute
                          power corrupts abs
                         solutely absolute  po
                          wer  corrupts   absol
                             utely  absolute  p
                             owe corrupts  ab
                             solutely absolute
                             power corrupts a
                             bsolutely absolut
                             ely absolute  pow
                             er corrupts absol
                             utely absolute po
                             were corrupts ab
                             solutely  absolute
                             power corrupt ab
                             solutely  absolute
                             p o w e r corrupts
              absolutely ab         solute power
         corrupts abeolute  ly absolute power
          absolute power      corrupts absolute
            ly absolute po         wer corrupt s
               absolute                      power

Yes,
I have been drinking,
and none of that will make me forget
my legs around his waist.
were there hands on my ***?
I can't remember,
his hair's so long,
so soft,
when I pulled it and pushed him
against my body.
Oh, happy new year.
I can feel my eyes glow again
when I think about yours
No smile
No smirk
Just lips, against mine,
missing in intoxication.

Oh, the absolut lullaby.
Singing me to sleep.
You made my lip swell, honey.
I expect a goodnight kiss for that.




*"Tonight was fun and we still had our clothes on, so that's a lot on it's own."

Running outside under a quiet moon,
Moments stolen in a crowded room.

Gentle curves over table edges,
Absolut-ly visual perfection.

You long for a touch more intoxicating than everclear,
Because all you want is whoever is near.

Here's that recurring pattern again,
I guess its justice with how I've treated others all the way up to this year's end.
I probably deserve this,
I can be on my way,
Watching what could have been fade away,
So many things I will miss,
Never again be able to have one more first kiss.
But still there's so many things I wish I could say,
Maybe its just not my time,
Or the maybe the standards are too high,
Whatever the reason,
I guess tis the season.
Happy holidays, may your loved ones be merry,
I'll be here singing love songs with my sweetheart; Absolut Cherry.

****,
om jeg ikke glemte mine nøgler
oveni mit mint tyggegummi
hjemme på mit skrivebord
****,
om jeg ikke savner stillestående søndage
trods jeg hellere vil ud og mærke nætternes kulde
der river i mit ansigt og pisker mit hår
****,
om jeg ikke har tabt mine smøger
og at mit hår er fedtet og klamt
og ****,
om jeg ikke har tabt mit hjerte til dig
midt i fuldskabens tåger
fordi jeg absolut blev grebet
da jeg behøvede det mest

i love you as absolute
as the sky is blue
who cares if there is absolut
running through my veins

i love you like a green grass field
and I love you like i don't know why;
its a good thing I'm not sober
or else these words would not spill so easily.

i love you like words are spoken
and music is listened;
i love you like a poem is written
and the picture is painted.

I love you with every breath
and I love you with every sigh;
you may upset me at times,
but i love you despite the sadness.

i love you when im angry;
i love you when im mad;
i love you when im happy;
and i love you when you cried.

you're a lovely creature and
you make me happy.

i love you when i don't;
because you're all i have left
to love and to hold
you're the only thing that matters.

you're my baby and my life.



xoxoxo.
*i love you.

bag tæppet af nostalgi ligger
fossende imitationslege og
mindreværdskomplekser i samme form som
selvretfærdighedens diktatur
akkumuleret støj som emalje over byen, barrieren mellem universet og os
gennem tæppet af nostalgi ser man
absolut  i n g e n t i n g
vi griner som om vi mener det
men ingen af os er hinandens første valg, dette er ingen frivillige løsning
sådan bliver andre mennesker ens sidste udvej
tilfældige mennesker
tilfældig ensomhed
bitterheden ætser ind i sjælen hvis den ophobes
ensomheden borer sig så dybt at den med tiden
erstatter ens skelet
så bygger og støtter hele ens tilstedeværelse på følelsen, der som
istapper i åbne arme den udstrakte hånd den opsøgende kommentar
modarbejder ens eksistens

I find passion in the strangest things, perhaps they aren't strange at all, I just feel as if I should be passionate of my own ideas, children of my own soul. A fire awakens in me from the words of another alcohol addled mind and I search deep inside to find a way to make a beautiful thing but I'm always far too sober to and I wonder if maybe I could be like that. A pull or two from Jack's lips makes me feel warm, like I'm home, similar to how a lovers hand on my stomach while im sleeping makes me feel. But maybe if I could find that Absolut resolve she could make my insides as beautiful as I am on the surface. Oh, yes, I am beautiful I see that now but that's neither here and certainly not there. I miss when I could wind words around and around and around me and I could climb like an eight legged beast from one end to the other visiting those i'd ensnared. Smiles and laughs and tears and everything we shared is here but you went away. As if to tell me what it is I never wanted to know. 

You can have your heart or you can have your tongue but only god could have both and even he chooses to have neither.

du umulige kærlighed
snart glemt, men alligevel forevigt gemt
inde i min indre og ydre bevidsthed
du popper oftes op i mine tanker, de gange jeg foruroliget passerer;
destinationer, individer, genstande
dér minder mig om dig
jeg kæmper stadig med afvendelsen af gamle vaner
der gang på gang, har formået at sætte hele mit tankesystem i livlige flammer, som har brændt mig op, indefra og ud

jeg ligger nu alene i græsset
glimtende illusioner springer så fint frem på den mørke nattehimmel
som det sidste jeg ser inden jeg
lukker begge mine øjne i
og møder dig i en af mine mange drømme
åh så naivt
og med forvrængede forhåbninger om
du og jeg

tørrer blidt, med knyttet hånd
en tåre af min venstre kind, mens jeg lader den højre dråbe løbe hele vejen ned til starten af mit kraveben
og dæmpet, fortæller jeg mig selv lavmælt  
med en snert af gråd i mit slidte stemmebånd
at dét forvrængede tankesystem her
er bygget på, at jeg så ynkeligt går og venter ivrigt og utålmodigt
på dét
jeg på én og samme tid absolut er bevidst om,
aldrig kommer til at ske
udover i mine drømme

a citrus *****, sveedish,
   citrus, absolut,
    straight,
      with ice...
       some might call it
a sewer lemon squinting
pinch, without a first
of a month...

        but it's certainly
a ***** *****,
   given that all the impurities
from the "apparently"
filtered frozen water
start to appear,
   like dissolved tofu flakes...

***** *****:
    ***** and ice...
     i agree: an ugly cocktail
but right on the mark...

because what on earth could
have possibly happened in
england when i was away from
it for two months,
in an asylum of my grandparent's
abode of:
      oh sure, sure...
   marry...
    hell knows no wrath,
  as a woman belittled...

      a long trip from a sleepy
town once tipped to be the next
metallurgy capital,
overgrown with weeds...
   busy Warsaw with a faint
tickling of German...
         more German than English:
and at that moment:
tourism seemed, refreshing...

     back in sleepy England?
even the most populated snippets
of Warsaw didn't seem that
appealing as, as *****,
as welcoming as:
the shadiest, scabbiest postcards
from the Eastern Avenue
   moving from the A406 into
the mini Raj of a certain
part of Essex...
    the part not allocated to
the Cockney migration...

        shady as ****...
but if you asked me to get out
of the car and walk these streets?
hell, i know a few Bulgarian
prostitutes not too far away
and... oddly enough...
half an hour... half an hour without
an *******...
    just to tattoo an invisible
mark of my fingertip on
her buttocks...
    
               at one point she collapsed
and said no more,
   so we just lay there,
while i kissed her eyelids...
        
           what did i leave reading?
the times magazine, 17.03.18,
main articles read the following:

   if you're not broody and you can
pay your own bills,
   why settle?
          is that all?
    back in Edinburgh i did that
for 3 years, and god, if that's
an achievement?
     hell... might as well move into
making pancakes territory...

because the other option is:
   and if you can't?
   why give a *******' worth
of jingle for these curtain-people?
    3 years isn't much,
but in those 3 years it wasn't
a hot topic...
      
             2 months away and what
do i return to?
   by neighbours think i'm dead...
my feet gave odours of french blue,
and the cat that made my room
her high tower was chased away
from the socks up...
   i took a shower...
          which also included
saving a moth who attempted
suicide...
    
         flew right into the shower
cubicle...
   stopped soaping myself
and picked the poor ****** up,
breathed on it,
   unrolled one of its wet
antennas hidden beneath its
wet wing using a cotton bud on
a plastic matchstick
   no technical name to
usurp this description)...

   and watched it vibrate its wings...
trill: RRRRRRRRR
     its wings dry...
              while puckering up
a mouth to my finger for balance
and retrospect...
  
    yes, cats, really are,
the gatekeepers of finding a tier
of affection in insects,
    butterflies are too shy,
   and never mistake a room lit
by a candle or lightbulb
     for the ******* day,
go figure...
        
     in the past two months though,
this is the sort of tabloid
dynamic of "news" missing in
these parts of the world,
because, to be honest,
if i didn't write this:
   **** all would have apparently
happened...

            but yes...
cats are gatekeepers to experiencing
affection from an
individuation *** ****
        (with man) -
                the mirror of man,
or how man escaped the collective
unconscious of humanity,
solomon took to the ant...
    
    i? the moth.
        bee too...
   i remember feeding a dying
bee honey,
  watching it pitifully extend
its tongue into a dollop
    of honey and die from
an overdose...
       but it was dying anyway...

somehow eating chicken
isn't so accommodating a concern
in all honesty...
  given that chickens live
like aristocracts before
the French revolution... chop chop...
what's the problem?

      and we are not industrialised
creatures to suddenly
lament the industrialised
;production of cockley-doodle-do?
     it's like attempting to
hear a grand historical laugh
worth an aeon,
   while instead merely listening
to a second's worth of
a constipated giggle: a snigger...
af if these current zeitgeisters
          are robbing us of a past...

becauase if Orwell is the current
curriculum in the west...
   and the east used to ban in...
   why is Orwell suddenly
   dogma in the west,
  when it was prohobited in the east?
ah... right... overshot the Huxley
bit... the, real nightmare
of aesthetic eugenics,
         or whatever compound you'd
want to use...

     so Orwell used to be forbidden
in East Germany...
    because?
   becauase it is now West German
dogma or rather:
  since capitalism is cannibalising
itself...
      it requires to project
     a jumping caterpillar
to jump over, with an antithesis?

  which is Huxley...
     but that has no ideological
frameworks,
      too bad Dolly...
  i'm sure Mr. Hyde can teach
his clone the debauchery once
upon reserved from the dynamic
orthodoxy of time
and a father, and a son...
   the rich are not evil...
     they are merely not
as oppurtunistic as the poor...
   so go figure...
  its hardly a deep receding
archetype waiting to bud
in my mind, which nonetheless,
perpetually slips into
the back of my tongue
boxed with the tonsil to shut up...

how does a moth dry its wings?
vibrates them, standing still,
but i still had to unfold
one of its sodden antennas
     from beneath its wet wings...
and see...
   cats as gatekeepers to
the metaphor of man in insect...
and the godlessness
       of man: without insects...

just the casual disinterest
          of concern for an insect
becomes 100x more than
a formal interest of discocern
for a man...

                  that's a quadratic
maxim:

     i will casually treat an
insect with more concern
            than i might a man...
because i am not obliged
to any collectivism,
       no hierarchy,
   no: formality...
                   trans-gender
is as the **** talking
mouth of the odd instance
of being transcendent within
the nonetheless unifyng
branches leading
to the stalk, and...
    ****... roots...
    ******* rubber:
extends on boths sides:

   8  ------- 1 ------- ∞

        1 = undeniable,
   given 0 = negatation
    (counter-thesis of Kantian
atoms, words,
   since letters already
consist of bigger than
atoms elements: Na: sodium)...

     even if there is a void,
i still fill that "void"
with the purpose of denying
it...
        atheism is bonkers, ergo...
oh the void of catholicism
i'd prefer to watch
magpies cackling over
which of them is going
to steal the silver spoon...

     ***** *****...
   saving a moth while taking
a shower...
        as much of england
in the past 4 hours as in
the 2 months i was away.

what sort of mistake do you have to make,
where at this crux of
  made mistake somewhere down along the line
produces the following "solution":

    9  7  5  1  2  3  8  6  4
    3  1  6  ?  4  5  2  9  7
    4  2  8  7  8  6  5  1  3
    6  3  2  8  1  4  ?  7  5
    7  5  1  3  6  2  9  4  8
    8  4  9  5  9  7  3  2  1
    2  9  7  4  5  8  1  3  6
    1  8  4  6  3  9  7  5  2
    5  6  3  2  7  1  4  8  9....
        
                i wish it was as simple as spelling
mistake to correct it...
              but having the concept regarding
this puzzle as:
           x
              0
                 x
                                doesn't help...
                        well, it really is XOX of japan...
             you have complex phonetic encoding,
mathematics is like children playing with g.i. joes...
              you squirming... or squinting?
         i'll have to wait for tomorrow's newspaper
to get the answer as to where i made the mistake...
   like i made the mistake in
no. 8942
            with the nine in the
                        1  6  8
                        7  2  5
                        3  9  4 lower square...
                  oh right... this is the part where i'm
supposed to be jealous with you getting all the *****?
          to be honest? two cats are already too much to handle...
you can have your little jealousy-magnetism objects
that women become...
                            it's almost 7pm around here,
and i'm about to finish a litre of swedish ***** (absolut)...
                i'm trying to be bothered...
                                i just made a mistake solving
a su doku, that might be nothing more than
                        having writen a 9 wonky... or some other
number... but until tomorrow's press doesn't print
the solution... i won't know where i went wrong...
                      well... hello raisin madam!
                                you have that produce in
the heavenly harem of islamic martyrs?
            is this the part where you tell me: exercise!
             i really can imagine that kind of hell...
                          what they call heaven i just call hell...
it's like ******* two-point-oh... oh right?!
                i have to **** these women i'm not
attracted to? and there's 72 of them?
                                                          oh crap.
guess what dating app. they have in iceland...
guess!
                   they match up based on their genes...
that's what they have in iceland... as an island
community they match up, based on their genome...
if they're 2nd or 3rd generation cousins
the phone app. alerts them that they're
related in a too close a proximity and that they
shouldn't move toward having offspring.
                      i opened today's newspaper and read
the news, and then thought: horror movies
are the equivalent of softcore if a pornographic
analogy is permitted... in terms of what journalism
covers... horror movies are romance...
         this **** covers the utter mind-numbing *******.