Little Red Riding Hood tight as a tart, click clock clitoris, tasting of liquorish, perfect as peaches and cream, partaking in a parfait, wandering through the woods , repulsive Rapunzel riddled in riddles, a lost and lamenting Lolita , with a mission on her mind. She tiptoes by a house of ginger , foreshadowing  her fate , she spies a murdered mermaid at the lake, the prince’s fall from his destined tower , admiring the grace of the ever sleeping beauty , never to awaken.
A beauty both beaten and berated by the beast , what fairytale adventure awaits this young maiden? Throughout thee gaps of the notes and lyrics, non-existant footsteps can be heard, the moon begins to rise within night, accompanied by the tide that represents my insanity..my inner strife....I complain quietly as cock robins cuckoo clock is killed by the arrow of the sweet natured sparrow...know that at any moment should anything change....I might go mad...comfort me...my never aging...never ending madmoiselle of strings....mercury runs throughout the master races blood...hopping like a hare...hallucinating like a hatter.

                                                II
I will see to it that she suffers , in my world there is no happily ever after , only savage , monstrous laughter. I see Prince Charming with a rope around his neck....hanging out...so to speak, the death of a hero who solves his own sins.
The abdication of Alice, the slaying of Snow White , to the ridicule of Rapunzel. I live to ruin , destroy these children’s tales for you…making you see that the world we live in  is not so cheerful…. An invitation arrives upon her doorstep , inviting her for teatime, I the hatter fondles, her harmonica with glee...a crusade of eros...not bound by the concept of chronos....the caffenated liquior wriggles its way...down her own rabbit hole....causing complications...wonderous ruptures and raptures.....
                                                         
                                                            III
She knocks gently on her grandmother's door , I open it in response , showing her  in. Courteously she accepts my invitation , she has no idea what I have in store. I relieve dear Wendy of her beloved Peter , disposing of the remains carefully. I turn the rocking chair toward her revealing a young lycan with a taste for human flesh , dressed in his ballroom best. He licks his lips , she tries to escape but I forbid it. I point to a headstone and smile. She sees dear Walter’s name engraved , I am sorry but your time is up.  The animal disrobes , descending to all fours….and the rest is history…..I let him savor the taste while I take the apples  from her basket….before taking the wolf’s head in marriage….fetching a pretty penny for myself….from the vengeful families….I told you didn’t I…?

                                                     IIII
It is a good thing I have my words to fall back on...for I am invisible....much of what I say does not incaptivate...there is little of common interest....sometimes people can be so close and yet so far...Soon everything will break... I must stop chasing after a distant forgotten past for my own good...I check the meaning of an Eastern text , while realizing my bubbles will one day be broken , everything must be in sequence, on schedule. I have told him , the one from a drafted poem  almost everything. I recall, the memories of yesterday....rolling in a mixture of quality and filth..while waiting for my target to arrive....it was well worth my patience....it even temporarily cleansed my memory of their episodic adventures....featuring the humorless trinity of samurai and their shampoo....one of their voices was unfortunately in full bloom...
                                                 V
I attempt escape , shifting my focus , to a group of armed excorcists , a story that contains both characters and killers the two are so deep and compelling , beautiful battles , sweet flavoured voices ,improving with each passing second , changing tunes successfully, tender , loving , superior and circus worthy humor , a brush stroke of excellence that I may only mention within the pages of this current manuscript, animated to perfection with magnificent men and monsters, an adventure that dares to thread in the arena of romance, the result is something that makes me smile in approval as I admire each and every princess available on show. a superb cocktail of quality I must say , far better than others of its kind, I have a number in mind which I shall not say out of fear of repercussion. A black and white successor to this rare and pretty gem will follow and shall be indulged if I have the time, both have a tale to tell , unlike some others of their kind my readership is guaranteed. My gallant Ga-rei of an Eastern series of shells by the shore, a truly tasty , cartoonish decor if not in the same league of the geese's encoded gulls. A fitting antidote, similar in nature to the sinner's garden...to cleanse the mundane magic of the  mouryou no Maburaho... My poetry reads as prose...so why not my reviews? My verses receive the most attention...so why not merge to methods? If I write what the world wishes to see maybe I can acquire non believers to comply and take interest...in the written world....

                                                 VI
My delusions must stop....I need to accept reality....one day my own fairytale will have to come to a close....the spiral of heat and hope is dead...mimicking orphans without bread.....then it hit me harder than ever before....like a chrome coloured masterpiece of forbidden lore....to think of all the time I lost and wasted throughout the years....little miss muffet dethroned from her tuffet, flesh removed, fucked firmlly, ferociously in a bucket, a crumpled cunt carved quite coldly, starved of affection.... her duchy in dissaray...her flesh and blood fuel the soil of this foul mouthed fairytale.
My own tears have been shed and must be cured....I leave you with some final words....
There is no such thing….as happily ever after….