fuck sentimentality and to hell with romance, constructed notions so fugly plebs feel better about themselves and their grimy coupling. they're sore they don't have me, and that's because they can't have me, doe-eyed ethereal fairy that i am. wait. make that ineffable being that trenscends all taxonomy. i give new permutations to the golden ratio and beauty is just a six letter word that can't encompass me in all my spellbindingness.