[ dot your i's and cross your t's ]

look at her...isn't she wonderful? so cynical, chilling, beautiful. carelessly intelligent, and carefully confident. she's a size two but that isn't small enough, she shows us photos of how much skinnier she was. but she pretends she doesn't really care, of course.

she chooses her favourite pen to write deep and meaningful poems about the men she "loves". don't look her directly in the eye or else you might be the next to have your i's dotted and your t's crossed.

she's been through pain: that's her divine lisence to be condescending. and complain about everything. she entertains dreams of something great but does little more than contemplate. she waits. she shouldn't have to move, everything comes when she calls.

she craresses her next victim, coaxing him to taste her bitter opinion of life off her lips. she spreads her disease. dot your i's and cross your t's. say your prayers and hope there's an antidote.

she sets her sights. she inks her quill. she dots her i's, crosses her t's. she shoots to kill.

i close my eyes. i can't watch.

all writings (c) cydne zabel 1996-2002, all rights reserved