Dark. The scene is dimmer then I once remember.
Carry Gold. You'll require the glitz to entice them, to entertain and enlighten.
To liven.
My hair's natural curl has returned, and it's sheen alone has been the only light shed on home.
The air here, heavy with familiar scenario, hot with the sting of disaffected youth,
They assimilate their weight in goods, in jewels.
Their iron stomaches, their lead intestines fear nothing of the sort.
The masquerade of modern day,
Consumption seems the only way for my precious darlings,
their feeble minds and evaporating personalities,
those I hate to love, hence, love to hate.
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