Can't...Stop...

Here is my love letter to Elegant Choice; it depicts me floating above the patchwork earth on an opulent cloud, equal parts starry righteousness and inky diabolism. I have drawn my teeth artistic like a dingo's because that is the way I think of them in my private insecure moments. The same is true of those snowball hands and feet. Because if you ever meet me, the first thing you will notice is that my extremities look totally deceased for no reason. I fear for their future as extremities; I'm pretty sure they'll have to be snipped off at some point to become some other thing, whale fat maybe, or sensual mangoes.